Prisoner of War
by TheOne16th
Summary: A trap, an error, drunken words, and the want for vengeful humiliation by a great Noxian general were the simple things that pushed Lux under the servitude of Darius, and towards a road no Demacian has ever taken before: to be one among 'them', to betray Demacia, and to love a Noxian.
1. Prologue

**Prologue: Espionage**

The dusted concave tunnels seem to go endlessly. Torches lined the left side, their intervals so wide as to leave some darkness in between each torch. Sometimes, there were iron doors in these intervals, other times, it was only another wall, rarely though, would the tunnel split to grant an occasional turn in direction. Depending on what was above the tunnel, the walls and floors would be wet from dripping water from the surface, or very dry and dusty due to the torchlight. There were cracks in the ancient bricks if one looked close enough, which made the strength of these tunnels' foundations worrying.

Footsteps echo from somewhere deep within these tunnels, but they were of little concern, as they have become the sort of constant background noise to Luxanna's ear. What she wouldn't want to catch sound of was the clattering of moving armor plates and heavy treading of steel-soled boots. That meant patrols. Light, padded footsteps only meant torch-changers or servants sent to fetch something in these tunnels.

A group of footfalls have gotten nearer, emerging from the end of the tunnel. _One, two... three pairs..._ She thought. Not long, she heard talking that grew louder.

Luxanna stopped where she was and stuck by a shadowed wall untouched by torchlight. Every muscle and thought paused, her hands gripping to the wall and her breaths silenced.

Armor plates colliding against one another sounded as these men moved, with the slight clanking of their large weapons of traditional Noxian military culture: axes and war cleavers. They grew closer and closer, their boots sounding with heavy steps lacking a cadence, and their conversation becoming coherent as they neared the spot where Luxanna had been.

"... not very sure of the Raven's thoughts about it. With all these League restrictions, I guess it'd take some time before they make another arena for the Lowers." said a male voice.

"Bah, the Raven wouldn't want to disturb himself over crowd entertainment. He's always a busy man, barely get to see him since his coronation as Grand General." Another said.

Lux paused her breathing. Three large men, all in varying armor of Noxian craft, walked by her, the blades of their great weapons glinting in the dim orange torchlight, giving away a shine to Lux's eyes.

"Well, I don't know. Maybe Kavenir is just screwing with us again with the sort of rumors he's picking up." The last man said. "You know whatever he says isn't true... Most of the time."

Their voices distanced off. Lux waited for their footsteps to stop sounding before she can move on again. Though she had cast invisibility over herself — cloaking her entire body in perfect translucence— sound would still be a problem. She wouldn't want them to hear her own footsteps all of a sudden. Not long after, silence returned to the tiny roars of the torch fires. She could breathe a bit more easily now.

Lux continued on. This was the sixth or seventh time she had encountered a patrol. That means she was nearing the more secretive sections of these tunnels as there were more guards. It was both an assuring and risky sign. She had been here in these tunnels more than once, but sometimes, for the sake of security, the tunnels would be rearranged with new openings or new blockades. Memorizing year old plans of this place never worked for Lux, so she always navigated this place using pure instinct. She was good at that.

_They've most likely changed the location of their Main Archives. _She thought. They've done that once before and it was likely that they have moved it again since her last successful infiltration. _There's no way to be sure. I have to find their new architectural plans of this place._ She couldn't find one before she had entered these tunnels, but Lux figured that she'd have more chances of finding it in these places.

The tunnel finally cut into two different directions. Lux took the right, as it lead to the more unexplored areas of her mental map of this place. As she walked, she began to hear whistling, a sort of lively, work whistle echoing to her direction. Naked footsteps sounded. A servant boy was coming from the end of this corridor.

A smirk grew on Lux's lips. Finding the map for these tunnels would be more time consuming. This was going to be an easy alternative.

She hid herself in shadow, and, after whispering a small spell, she rearranged the way her body emitted light. From invisibility, the light around her changed to make her appear different to others. A sort of pseudo-shapeshifting, as she liked to call it. It was riskier compared to invisibility when it came to stealth, but when it came to deception, it was effective.

Walking slowly, she left the darkness and begun nearing the small Noxian boy.

His whistling stopped when the boy caught sight of her. He bowed his head down and visibly quickened his pace. Lux continued to amble on, eying the boy. You can tell that the boy can feel the weight of her look. He didn't wish to face up and meet her eyes, for it might meant more orders for him.

"You, servant boy." She said as they neared. The boy stopped.

"Yes, Commander Katarina?"

She stopped in front of him. He had looked straight ahead and paused every muscle of his body like a soldier would in the presence of a revered officer. Lux had a spark of pity for Noxian children like him, but that never clouded her mindset when it came to being in disguise.

"Look at you, how dirty and unkempt your appearance... If you wish to become a soldier, you would show better bearing than that pathetic excuse." She said, scanning the boy of the torn rags he wore and the many dirt and bruises that marked his limbs.

He bowed his head once again. "My apologies, Commander Katar-."

"Shut it. I don't want to hear your apologies. Under whose order's are you following, child?"

"General Darius', sir. He sent me to fetch a scroll from the Main Archives."

She paused. "I see. Never mind it. I prefer to pick a more eligible servant. Carry on and fix yourself the next time you show yourself to me."

"Yes, sir." He said, voice cracking for some reason. He scurried on, running down the tunnel.

She was lucky that the child didn't recognize the true Katarina's voice. Lux's brother, Garen, had once commented that she clearly mimicked the voice of Katarina at an instance when she had mockingly tried to mimic her voice. But that wasn't a reliable comment. Some guards in her past infiltrations did managed to recognize the difference in voice. Thankfully, the child didn't.

Lux waited for him to be out of sight before she had recast invisibility over herself again. Years of espionage had made this sort of work with her magic easy, like driven by muscle memory and triggered by instinct. She had sharpened her way with Noxian conversation, always presenting a stern tone and a boasting manner of speech that convinced the lowliest worker to the highest nobleman.

She didn't plan to lose the sound of the child's quick, naked footsteps. But before she continued on, Lux stopped. There were wet almost unnoticeable splatters on the floor in the direction of where the child ran. It took a moment for Lux to recognize them.

_Oh my... _She thought. Those were tears. A sense of guilt arrived to her. Though he was Noxian, he was still a child. Seeing the fresh bruises, Lux didn't mean to add more hurt. It was unlike a Demacian to bring any form of harm to innocents, especially for a Crownguard such as herself. She caught herself over-thinking over one Noxian child. It mattered no longer. She could afford no delay.

After she had lost the sound of the quick naked padding of his feet to the distance because of her momentary pause, Lux decided to follow the fresh trail of tears, spotting it easily by making its light appear brighter using her magic. They were not necessary tears, but at least she had some use out of them. It removed some of her guilt. She had her own judgment of things. If an action brings out something unnecessary, then it has become a mistake. She guessed that the tears have become necessary for her mission, though not intentional.

She let her mind off the child as thoughts concerning the entire mission returned to her head. It brought ease and a better reason to think heavily. The trail lead her to a new turn that she has not explored. _Perhaps it's one of the newer ones..._ She stopped when she saw a large, wooden door by the end of this corridor. There were two guards guarding each side, axes in both hands.

Lux retreated to the corner and changed appearance, this time, to a different disguise.

She stepped out and walked forward to the end of the corridor. When she had arrived there, the heavily armored guards stiffly pressed their axes against their chests and said: "Forever strong!" To which Lux simply nodded to, as was the normal gesture of an arrogant Noxian noble when given a salute. Well, they wouldn't want to hear a woman's voice coming from the mouth of a renowned Noxian High Major all of a sudden.

She was allowed entrance.

Lux had entered the Main Archives. A great fiery glow resonated out of a large crystal centered at the ceiling, granting decent although slightly shadowed light to the entire room of cabinets and shelves. Cabinets stuck to the walls, containing scrolls categorized by content as so were the books on the many shelves dividing the middle part of the room. Each were quite tall, requiring ladders to reach the topmost rows of the shelves and cabinets. With so much information, there was barely any space to cross through each aisle and fit all the shelves in the room.

_I wonder if the child is around here..._ Hopefully not. She decided to be more careful here, as those who visit could be higher ranking nobles, and with nobles came skilled honor guards and unavoidable and uncomfortable Noxian conversation. She continued on inside the vast library of Noxian knowledge. Of course, she did not expect to recover military intelligence. She pulled a random book from the first shelf she has come under.

_A Tale of Glory_... _Hmm... Interesting..._ Lux thought after scanning through the pages. She hid it in her sling-sack.

She had to leave with at least three books and one piece of vital intelligence. The latter was already recovered. All that she was doing right now was more of a _self-mission_ to a sate a curiosity beneath her. Noxian culture interested her to some degree, and she was fond of hearing many stories out of a Noxian's perspective. Her people, the Demacians, were skeptical, or, as Lux saw it, ignorant of Noxian culture and knowledge out of military tactics and politics. Lux was one of the few who saw more than war and bloodshed out of Noxian culture. These books provided her with one of the only ways she could know more about the sworn enemies of her land.

She scanned through the entire extent of this shelf, ignoring the higher sections as she scanned book by book. Unlike Demacian books, Noxian books commonly do not have their titles written on their spines, so it made searching for a good piece of Noxian literature even more difficult for Lux. She had to judge the content based on the thickness of the book. If it was thick, then she would pull it out and spare it a quick scan to save time.

_Women in Noxian Society and Warfare_... She scanned it. Without a doubt, the first few paragraphs mention Katarina.

_... the most impressive paragons of Noxian women would be Katarina, an assassin and commander of the Noxian High Command. She is responsible for many vital operations against Demacian military, at times delaying entire army movements with the assassinations of many officers. She is the example of feminine Noxian strength, whereas in Demacian society, females are traditionally housewives with very few exceptions in the nobility. We shall be more in-depth in discussing the symbol and importance of Katarina later in the book. There are also other important figures, namely..._

_Traditionally housewives? _Lux felt the urge to write to the author of this book and list down a hundred examples of Demacian women she knew that did not serve as mere housewives. That was a piece of Noxian propaganda right there. She nonetheless found it an intriguing topic for a book, as she had never encountered stories of feminine feats in Noxian battles and society apart from Katarina's. It found a place in her sack.

With two books and one more left to take home, she decided to take one book from the more unexplored areas of the Main Archives to make it seem more interesting. Lux moved into the more deeper sections of the Main Archives. She followed the same mindset as she had when in a Demacian library: the more farther inside the library, the better content. She loved to see less noticeable books to pull out and discover their potential. For some reason, it satisfied her to know that not many read a book that she enjoyed.

She arrived to the second-to-last bookshelf of the rows. After letting her fingers skid against the spines, she pulled out a rather thick book and opened it.

_The Forbidden Peace between Two Kingdoms_

The title gave her a sense that this was a book telling about war, and that it contained tales of ancient Noxian campaigns into Demacian lands. She opened the book to its middle section.

"_I know that this love for you cannot exist. The war between our people divides our lands, and the hatred divides our people, but I know that nothing may divide us." Seridel said, his young, Demacian heart bouncing off the sides of his chest._

_Vaerna felt tears caused by the words recited upon her. "Oh, Seridel, the strength my people have that makes them go to war is nothing compared to the strength of the love we share." _

Lux's eyes widened upon reading those lines. _A Noxian and a Demacian? Together? Oh please... _But, even if such situation weren't possible in the thousand years of war and rage between her people and the Noxians, she felt that the book was readable and interesting to an extent. Romance between a Noxian and a Demacian was never probable, much less peace.

The Noxians pillaged their lands long ago and taken many lives of brave soldiers who sought for only justice. Lux thought that, if wasn't her who found this book, if it were just any Demacian like her brother, they would have found the story's idea disgusting, as a Noxian would too. No wonder they've placed it this far in the archives.

She decided that it would be, in a way, worth reading. She'd never encountered a book with this topic in her life and this just might be the only copy in all of Valoran. Lux figured that no scribe would be ordered to copy this book by hand because of its disagreeable content. It fit in her sack.

It was time to get out. She had all that she needed. Retracing her steps would prove much easier than finding her way in.

"Ah, High Major Letnur," said a female voice. Lux turned her head. Katarina stood by the end of the aisle, walking slowly towards her. "A wonder to see you here, browsing through the unnecessary knowledge you've so called."

Instant nervousness struck Lux. There was no way she could speak and not have Katarina discover her. _Wait... She has no daggers? _ Strange as it was. Katarina appeared to have no scabbards of her daggers with blades half the size of a man's arm. But that fact only slightly reduced her lethality.

"Oh, what's the matter? Not in your usual talking mood?" said Katarina. The look of her eyes, they could pierce through her head and etch the words: _'I've found you.'_

It was by that look that Lux realized she had stepped into a trap.

Never was she caught, but that did not mean she had no backup plan. She continued to stare at Katarina, unable to speak. Lux could only muster a slow nod.

"Strange strange..." Katarina approached her and stopped. "You really are silent, Letnur." She paused. Her eyes met Lux's disguise. Lux could sense the enjoyment and intimidation from Katarina's look and tone, the way a predator sees its prey. "I have but one question to ask you, you ignorant old man... Dead men don't speak, isn't that right... Luxanna?"

She has been discovered. In an instant, Lux emitted an instant flash of white light from her entire body, causing Katarina to yell and cover her eyes. Lux backed away and faded into invisibility, running to the side aisles. The flash would only momentarily blind her.

_I have to escape. _She thought, hastily running past the side aisle. Footsteps began to follow her. It was Katarina's and she was approaching her with a more quicker pace. She had calculated her movements and followed the mage still. _I must lose her _Lux thought. She had to lose her in the tunnels. A straight-on chase like this would mean being outran.

Lux made a turn to an aisle that would lead directly to the entrance. A dagger spun as it flew. The blade landed and had cut through a book. It would have caught Luxs's flesh if she had not turned.

_I'm not going to be caught. Not now, not ever. _The entrance was still unguarded and looked so far. Lux hoped that Katarina came alone, as she would usually do. There was no time to think. Lux was already nearing the doors. She stretched out a hand and opened the wooden door. It would only need to confuse Katarina once she was invisible in the maze of Noxian tunnels. This was her chance to escape.

She swung open the door.

A wall of Noxian shields stretched from end to end. She expected it. Lux reached both her hands out in front of her. The magic flowed inside her veins, its power invigorating, focusing towards her palms. Her eyes glowed a golden aura. It was an unstable energy, just waiting to be released Then, in an instant, a great beam of searing light fired towards all the shields.

The beam spread throughout the wall, the reflective metals absorbing it, then bouncing it back as a flash of pure light towards Lux. The white engulfed her eyes, and, in panic, interrupted the focus of her magic, revealing herself. She should've known. They used reflective shields.

As her vision cleared out, she saw a silhouette of a man stand from the shield wall. She could not recognize him. He aimed something at her. Metal clicked and a loud electrical crack roared.

Lux's body vibrated as magic-nullifying volts coursed through her flesh. It raked and at the same time numbed every nerve under her skin, like a thousand clawed hands gripped her and shook furiously. It drained her of what little mana, of what little precious reserve energy she had. It stopped.

Uncontrollable weakness took her limbs. She was falling.

The cold surface of the floor collided with the back of her head. There was the ceiling above her. It's all so blurry now.

Her eyes felt weak. She's tired, so tired, and so exhausted.

She has been caught. She has been defeated.

Slowly, the walls of her eyelids engulfed her vision in darkness.

* * *

AN: This my try on DariusxLux sort of thing. One of my first LoL fics by the way. I haven't written any sort of romance for a long time.

Might escalate this to M just in case.

Anyway, thanks for reading! Any sort of criticism is alright(except flames, I've seen enough of them in the game heh heh). See you on the next one!

Disclaimer: I do not own League of Legends. It rightfully belongs to Riot.


	2. Mercy, Judgment, and Wine

**Chapter One: Mercy****, Judgment, and Wine**

"_... think that we can have nibble of her?" _

"_Patience, Heigir, if we're lucky enough they'd send her to the lower prisons. Then..."_

"_We can have a bite, eh? Just a quick chomp at her and leave her to the rest."_

"_I said if we were lucky. The nobles might have at it at her first, those greedy lot."_

_Who are they?_ Pieces of her consciousness begun returning. Her shins were dragging against the floor, and she felt arms folded through her underarms. She was being carried. Her eyes had not yet open, but her other senses begun to return. She heard the heavy movement of armor and boots and echoes of every sound, like they were in a large hall. It was difficult to remember.

_Where am I? _Lux thought. She felt so weak. She tried to open her eyes even though they felt like anvils were roped to each lid. Steel-plated boots were taking steps against gray, marbled floors. She can see her hands hang at each side. Now she was sure that she was being taken somewhere. She was beginning to remember.

Lux looked up and saw a large, iron double doors by the end of the hallway that they were walking in. Torches were alight on each side. She knew that place. She'd been there during her last missions. It was Swain's private meeting room. _Not good... I have to... Can I... escape? _Lux begun to doubt. If she were already in the arms of two large Noxian soldiers, then it meant that it was too late.

"_What you think the Raven'd do to her?"_

"_I don't know. Maybe he'll entertain himself with her."_

"_He's an old man, you dimwit, he might not have any left."_

"_Who knows? After all, he is the... Master Tactician. Of many things."_

She heard weak laughter. _Could I talk?_ Lux thought. She felt that she can as the weakness faded a slight bit.

"What's going to happen to me?"

The man to her right spoke. "Oy, she's awake." He said.

"Well, that's too bad. I was hoping she'd be knocked out until 'morrow"

That didn't work, but she had to try again. She'd fear for for her life if she did not know what they were going to do to her. She was already captured, and that meant embarrassment back home in Demacia, but if they laid a single finger on her... She would not know how her family would see her. She spoke again.

"What's going to happen to me? I'm asking of you."

"Silence, Demacian harlot," The left man said. "We're taking you the Raven, see 'ere, he's going to have a little time off with you if we didn't know any better."

The other man chuckled. "Yeah, das' right. He's going to do little foreign exchange, if you get what we're saying." They chuckled more.

_What... no... _Lux knew that Swain wasn't that sort of man, but fear mutilated her imagination. It was terrifying and worrying. Swain being an avid follower of the idea of psychological warfare, and that she was nothing but an asset to contribute to that, made her feel helpless and completely trapped. _No, I have to remain strong. When in the clutches of an enemy, push back and remember Demacia._

Yet, for a moment, she doubted if her ideologies could make her feel any better now. It only eliminated the urge to plead for mercy, but the sense of terror... It would not leave her now.

They arrived at the door. One man knocked then the door opened. "Alright, ere' we..." They heaved then Lux was flung inside the room. "Go!"

The men left chuckling after cracking a joke about her that she didn't understand.

The door shut behind her. Her outstretched hands softened the fall. She was on the marbled floor. It was candlelit all around her. She faced up, glancing around the room. The source of light appeared to coming from an oil lamp directly above her. It was enough to provide light to all corners, as the room was somewhat small with very few, yet royalty, furniture inside it. There were no windows, just walls with carvings on them.

She heard the pop of a cork and the flowing of liquid. _Wine?_ Lux thought. She could tell from the aroma she'd grown familiar with. There was a cushioned chair in front of her that blocked her view. She moved slowly and peeked out of one side. A nearly bald man in a green coat was having a slow drink from a silver goblet. The sound of his gulps could be heard, then, after he had finished a gulp, he took a breath.

"It's been... some time when I last had a good drink." He said without turning, the voice dried and husked by years of reciting speeches and shouting orders to his men in the field.

Lux recognized that voice.

Jericho Swain. the Master Tactician, the Grand General of the Noxian High Command, a master user of magic, and the absolute ruler of Noxus in both its military and government, his greatness and terror earning him the name of the Raven Emperor. She only had a drip of respect for him, and that was for his military skill, but anything else was a matter of hate and disgust. The way he spoke... It always hinted arrogance.

He took another sip. "I find that my judgment is further enhanced when I..."He cleared his throat. "I lack logical reasoning. Oh wait, never mind that. I meant to say something else. Let me repeat." He finally faced her. Swain looked down upon her with a loose, drunken glare from his aged face. He took slow steps forward and sat back on the throne of this room. "What, are you going to be on your knees all the while while we speak?" He said.

The weakness was no longer crippling. Lux got on her feet.

"Oh, and while you're at it, get a bottle from..." He lazily turned his body and pointed behind him. "Over there... Get the one with 'Berrilace' written on it and put it on the table..." He then rested his head on his hand, an elbow on an armrest.

The order puzzled Lux. _This is most eccentric, really..._ After a moment's pause, she moved on and went to the area pointed. She searched for the bottle and found it. It was the largest bottle with blackened glass. She had picked it up, and, judging from its weight, found that it was still half full.

She returned and placed the bottle on the table, then, as said, she took a seat but could only find little comfort.

"Ah, thank you. It appears you Demacians aren't so worthless..." He took the bottle by its neck and poured contents into his goblet, filling it to the brim. He drunk and looked at Lux. "Where was I?"

"_Let me repeat?_" Lux said, nervously eying back his drunken eyes.

"Oh yes, yes." He cleared his throat again. "I mean something else. I find that my judgment with _prisoners and the way in which I want to deal with them _is further enhanced when I've a bit too much to drink. Oh, and, don't think about anything drastic, Crownguard, you'd find quick death when opposing me." Swain drunk again. Lux understood that. There are tales of his combat prowess as a master mage in darker magics. Lux watched and wondered how many drinks had the Grand General taken tonight. His current state put Lux in a sort of uncertain ease. She wouldn't want to see him sober _or_ drunk anyway.

"I don't often drink wine these days. I told myself to cut down on it before. I was addicted see... But sometimes, I let my past desires return and..." He sipped. "I relish in it as I once did. I get too busy, you see, with planning and planning with obnoxious generals and whatnot... But, always, a moment's wine in all the work is most enjoyable still..."

"I can see that..." Lux said.

"Bah! What am I talking about? I'm here to give you judgment in private before we undergo trial! That's if I don't decide to have you summarily executed." He laughed but Lux's heart clenched upon hearing 'execution'. "My, oh, my, I wonder what I'd decide for you!" All along as he was speaking, he was smiling and even grinning at some points when he would see the fear in Lux's eyes. "I get very creative when I'm not sober."

"My brother will have your head, you tyrant pig..." Lux said, blank and threatening at the same time. If there was one way she could sound strong at least once, then it was with what she said.

Swain laughed, sipping after. "Your brother couldn't even take the head of the general second to me, and you expect him to defeat me? Ah, what good humor! The weak pretending to be strong." He shrugged off her threat as if it was nothing but a minor tease.

Lux fell silent. It was not very effective to threaten him, even if he was sober. Out of anything to say, she had to stay silent. She was in their hands now, and they had the power to do anything to her.

"Ah, hmm... Let's see..." Swain begun to rub the bottom of his lip with a finger. "I don't need to interrogate you, no, no, Katarina already drained your kingdom dry of information, as you have to us. Ah, yes, should I send you to the Fleshing? Hmm..."

"May I suggest?" She doubted her words, but she had already spoken.

"Yes?" He so curtly said, as if in casual conversation. "Go ahead, please."

"Would a quick and painless one be suggestable?"

Swain laughed again taking more sips. "You're a humorous one! Of course not! In fact, now that you mentioned it, I'll pick the most... inconvenient one just for you." He sipped with a smile and finally emptied the goblet. Lux's heart begun to pound, and the skin of her hands felt cold. She'd created another mistake.

"Ah! I know! Wait..." He took a moment to refill his goblet, as he did so, he spoke. "You know, there is a part in the civil prisons, where prisoners are all huddled up in one large room with no light... There are about a hundred of them, if I remember correctly... Pickpockets, thieves, brigands, and common rabble... And all of them are males, you see..."

Lux felt the bite of tears forming behind her eyes.

"Please... I beg of you, Grand General..." She said, before her own voice could crack. She gripped hard the ends of her armrests. Her Demacian ideologies mattered no longer. It was either she die swiftly or face slow, humiliating death. The former would do her better dignity.

Swain continued. "Please, please, I am speaking, Luxanna, I don't like it when I'm interrupted." He sipped again. "Now, they have natural instincts and they haven't breed for the years that they have stayed-"

Lux leaped out of her chair. She knelt to the ground and clasped her hands. She had begun to sob uncontrollably. Her eyes glinting with tears could not melt Swain's careless glare. "Spare me the honors of war, Grand General" Lux said, voice cracking. She began to stammer. "Spare me, spare me unnecessary... Unnecessary embarrassment."

"I shall disregard that you have interrupted me, pathetic Demacian." Swain said. "Now, by impulse, they would, of course, _approach_ you. But if I were to order all of them in that room to-"

"_NO!_ I BEG OF YOU! I WILL BE DISOWNE-"

"_SILENCE_, INFILTRATOR!" Swain slammed a fist against the armrest. The liquids in his goblet rocked. "I AM SPEAKING! And as for your '_honors of war,' _I do say that I no longer believe in such nonsense. Jarvan, the old monkey with a crown, had never even given it to _my _captured soldiers, so silence your hypocrisy before I do it myself!"

Justice, bravery, Demacia... What mattered anymore? Lux thought of it as she sobbed and sobbed. Swain could only drink more as he watched her in silence, thinking of what more to say or add in his judgment.

The imaginary weight of her exemplar relatives' stares pushed her to the bottom of her discomfort. A true Demacian gives his life than face defeat, but she found herself wanting to live, to free herself from humiliation if she only could, and to do so, she cried at the feet of the Raven Emperor like a villager to his conqueror.

To anyone's eyes, even to her's, she appeared pathetic, pathetic that she couldn't show any more courage that her people were so known for, and she was _supposed to be_ a paragon of her people, and it felt even more pathetic that she is at her knees pleading for mercy in front of the Raven scourge of her land. This was unlike a Demacian exemplar, _very _far from it even. Her teeth gritted, and she felt a welling frustration aimed against her.

This was her error, and she began to hate herself for it.

_A Demacian heroine is never defeated _Her mother's words echo in her head, again and again, pounding her mind. _A heroine never commits fault. A heroine would rather die than face defeat! Then what am I, mother? What am I?_ A snapping voice of her mother. _An embarrassment. _Another tear fell.

A large metallic creaking sounded. It was the door opening. It caught both their attention.

Inside came a man in royal Noxian garments, a red cape veiling his entire left arm. For a moment, Lux hoped that it would be any sort of help, but seeing that it was only Darius, made her agony sink in even worse. She was alone, captured deep in enemy territory, and now they were going to kill her in the most sickening way possible.

"Ah, Darius!" Swain said. "You are witnessing my judgment over Luxanna Crownguard!"

Darius looked at him, seemingly careless of the entire situation. "I thought you required my presence before you would judge it."

Swain chuckled and sipped. Darius watched him with a furrowed brow as the Grand General enjoyed his wine. "See, Darius, I've passed my judgment, and I'm awaiting yours, then we can both agree on a unified judgment once we have thoroughly discuss it."

"I question your abilities to properly pass any judgment when you are intoxicated, Jericho."

"Oh please, this is not the first time that you've seen me do this! And besides, like I've said, I'm the Grand General. I can do what I whatever I wish." Swain smiled at Darius. He returned an annoyed frown.

Darius's eyes met Luxanna's. The tears had begun to drip down her chin, but that didn't concern him. "And so what judgment have you passed?" Darius shut the door behind him and continued inside, stopping beside Swain's chair.

"I want to send her to the deepest bowels of the civil prison." Swain said. "And I want a skilled scribe to write detailed reports of what happens to her there, then I wish to send it to the Demacians, especially to the Crownguards. Humiliation is just one of my favorite ways of war."

"No... please, no..." Luxanna whimpered, but even she knew that wouldn't work. "They will disown me... I beg of you..." Her voice neared a whisper's loudness.

"Hm..." Darius eyed her. She looked so weak and pathetic. He had never seen a Demacian solider in a state like this, a Crownguard no less, the same blood as his greatest rival. Greatest rival... As he thought of it, his own judgment slowly formed. "Swain, you are well aware of my personal vendetta with the Crownguards..."

"Really?" Swain said. "Oh, I've forgotten! Yes, yes, how exciting! Exacting vengeance through humiliation, I enjoy that! Ah, I know what you're thinking now Darius, you dirty little swine you!"

_Entertaining a Demacian woman is below me..._ He thought, but he believed drunken Swain would disagree and he'd lose his support. It was going to be satisfying to personally humiliate a Crownguard, and he could think of no better way... "Swain, I want to exact satisfaction by having Luxanna as my own personal servant."

"Ah, yes, Darius! We can agree on that!" Swain said. Lux's head turned back and forth as she listened and understood. More tears escaped her eyes. She looked at Darius, and he had turned his head, causing her to give a teared glare at him. Lux thought that Darius was going to use her as a weapon against her brother, Garen. It was all too obvious.

"From now on," Swain continued. "Luxanna Crownguard, you will follow Darius, serve to _any _of his needs, and you will learn to respect him. You belong to him now. If you disobey, perhaps _my judgment _as a punishment would best suit you if you do not wish to participate in his decision. You're now as useful as a housewife."

Swain turned his head to Darius. "And, Darius, I wish you well with your new servant. This is a brilliant symbol of Noxian dominance over Demacians. Have her sent to your quarters and carefully restrained by no other than Katarina. She is your responsibility now and you could do so as you wish with her." Swain said, sipping, then smiling at Darius, who was still eying Luxanna with a stiff frown. "Now excuse me," Swain said, standing up. "I have to do make do with myself for tonight at this state of..." He let out a 'hic'. "Intoxication... Oh, how I missed wine..." He left, drunkenly walking out to the hall and still taking sips from his goblet to savor his only wine in many days.

Lux connected a burning teary glare at Darius. "You're sickening..." She said, but even her words and tears could not break Darius's expression.

He despised weakness, and when he had entered, he saw nothing but weakness so pitifully demonstrated by Lux, a Crownguard. She was his prize now. She is a slave, an object, and he possessed her. And, knowing that he owned a Demacian, a Crownguard at that, he found a sort of deep satisfaction felt after saying an effective insult, and this insult in particular, was pointed to Garen and all of the Crownguards.

"Garen must be so proud of you right now." Darius said. "Paragon_ Crownguard.'_

_Don't you dare mock me like that..._ Lux snapped in her thoughts. She had no more will to express any sort of strength as she had already felt powerless in the first place. Her head bowed and she let the tears drip to the floor. She can only hope for pity, but that was futile. She had little choice. It was either him, the mortal enemy of her brother, or a hundred peasant men in a dark prison room.

Yet, she could not help but think for a moment that Darius lessened the damage or, at the very least, reduced the amount of her humiliation. But that did not matter. It was no better. He is an enemy and she is there, under his possession, for his enjoyment. The picture will not change no matter how one turns it.

Darius left her in silence, letting out a 'hmph' before he took a step.

"Make sure she doesn't get out until Katarina returns with the magic suppressors." Darius said to his honor guards waiting by the door. "And don't let any other nobles or anyone who happens to pass touch her, understand?" An affirmative was his answer.

He left, taking a short glance back, to see if she was still glaring at him. Lux still knelt, weeping on the small table, her back hopping up with every sob. To Darius, it looked disgusting, a show of emotion and weakness by a Crownguard, one of his most formidable enemies.

He remembered something. He'd seen the same action before, although a different woman, the one who had abandoned him and his brother. Lux reminded him of her in a way. But that was something distant and forgotten.

The guards closed the iron doors and he could no longer see Lux. He turned and continued on walking. _Have to find Katarina..._

* * *

AN: Yeah, now you know why I might escalate it to M rated soon. AND SORRY, NO RAEP FOR U.

I'd like to thank those numerous who reviewed and followed on the _first day_ of publish. It's really cool. It's nice to have support so I can carry this story through(geddit? hahaha, kill me). Nah, seriously, thanks for the interest, I see that maybe not few like the 'opposites-attract' style of romance in this fandom.

And, uh, thanks again! All criticism, no flames, and see you on the next one!


	3. Subordination

**Chapter Two: Subordination**

Splatters of tears dot the table Lux has been crying on. Her sobs were the only sounds in this windowless room. Crying was never a way to solve a problem, she had taught herself that, but it was all she could think of to do when she faced the judgment of two of the Noxian High Command's highest generals, one being nearly indifferent to her and the other one madly drunk. The thoughts circled her head, that she is an embarrassment to both the enemy and, soon to be, her own people.

_What would I be? _Lux thought. _History will name as the one who shattered the Crownguard's reputation for never failing... The one who chose to serve a Noxian noble instead of facing disgusting execution in a Noxian civil prison... No, I shouldn't think of that... I have to be strong... I have to be... _

It didn't work this time.

Strength meant nothing. Her threats were as puny as teasing names thought of a young child, and showing any sort of strength only proved her more pathetic to her Noxian captors. There was little hope of escaping too. Her magic was nullified. She could not feel the pleasant flow of warm arcane mana coursing throughout her body. If she had them, she would have escaped before she had entered this room, leaving piles of smoldering Noxians in her wake. But now, she was as helpless as a hen before slaughter. They will do anything to her, and she had to comply or face humiliating death.

She stopped weeping and then wiped her eyes.

Lux had remembered falling into Katarina's trap. _How could I be so stupid? It was obvious. The Noxian child, the trail he left, the emptiness of the archive room... I should've known..._ Back home, she was always thought of to be the brightest Demacian, if not one of the brightest. She could memorize the plans of a Noxian fortress at three glances. She could track down mercenary Ionian assassins for days and pinpoint their location. She could answer the most complex strategic and political questions before they can even be completely said. She could do what she was told without a dribble of questioning and with utmost efficiency.

But now, she made a pitiful mistake. She could imagine the furious, embarrassed faces of her family once they receive the message that she has been captured. Lux never wanted to be a burden. It was always her goal never to pull her family down, or anyone at all, as they were already numb of her emotion. Lux the bright child, Lux the flawless spy, Lux the beautiful Crownguard, Lux the sister of the mighty Garen, Lux the Lady of Luminosity... She was all of them, but she they never saw her as just _Luxanna. _

So, for their recognition, she had always sought for their heart-felt approval since the day of her first training. That recognition, she has yet to earn, and now, probably will never earn. That made her apologize uncontrollably as she sobbed even more, as if they can hear her and look down upon her with their angered, disapproving stares. All the titles that she has ever earned will mean nothing when she slips into the Noxian darkness.

_I'm overthinking... I'm overthinking... I need to stop it... I have to think of a plan..._ But she could think of none. She was a high-value target; the many documents she has stolen from the Noxian secret service says so. She would be watched over and kept like an ancient long forgotten relic freshly found. _Maybe my family could ransom me? Oh, who am I fooling? They will never want me back... They won't pay for me... And if they did, they'll never see me the same... _

And then she eventually thought of Darius; the way he looked down upon her with his stiff frown and unbreakable, indifferent eyes. _What will they think of me? They'll judge me for letting myself fall into their trap. They will mock me because I made a foolish mistake. And they will forget me because a Noxian... _She didn't want to think of it. She had never coupled with anyone, and a Noxian forcing her to do that act with her was the least of who she would want to be in bed with. Royal Demacian blood should always be pure. It is tradition. If they do so much as taint her with their lusts, then she would be... _A forgotten child, a royal Demacian violated by a Noxian is as good as an outcast... _

Luxanna had always wanted her first time in bed with another man to be special. The romantic stories her aunt— one of the only people who ever cared for her when she was but a child, now deceased— still lay fresh in her somewhat uncorrupted mind. She had always aimed for the gentlest, most kindest sort of true love that exists in Valoran. But thinking of that hurt her even more. She realized that she was acting like a child in the midst of the enemy. It made her feel even more pathetic. Even the dead would pity her, she thought. _What would Aunt Mayveya think of me? Oh, I am so sorry... so, so sorry..._

She couldn't imagine of what her brother, Garen, would think of her. Lux knew well that, in time, Darius would use her body. She would be the dagger that is an insult to Garen's reputation.

_Disgusting... Oh, what what can I do Garen? I'm trapped... I'm lost... I... Damn it... _Lux sobbed once again. After that bout of thinking, it only cycled over again, returning her to the same thoughts she had just visited. She noticed this. _No, I have to think of a plan... Once I see the opportunity to escape, I'll have to take it in anyway... _Lux thought about it, that small spark of hope, but then the thought of Swain's punishment extinguished it in an instant. Was it work the risk? She had no choice but to be patient despite her despair. Everything else would now be a matter of endurance, and she doubted that she would endure all and return home the same woman...

The door creaked once again.

Lux turned her head, the contorted expression now slightly softened. Katarina entered, still in the same combat outfit Lux had seen her wear not long ago. A faint smirk carved her pursed lips and an ember of satisfaction seemed to cut through her expression. Lux could tell that she was carrying something, as one hand was free, while the other was clenched. The sight of her made her feel no better and just even worse, especially after noticing her closed fist. This was the woman who had trapped her not long ago.

Their eyes met, an arrogant look to a blank, teary stare. Her scar cutting vertically across her left eye would make her appear more menacing in a serious expression, but if not, it only marred any attempt to have a gentle guise. "So, how do you like your new home, _servant?_" She emphasized, closing the door behind her. "Stand up for me, will you?"

"What are you going to do to me?" Lux said, following the command anyway. "How long will I be here?"

Katarina's smirk grew larger. "As long as Swain wants it." Lux noticed that she had not answered her other question.

"What?" Said Lux, still puzzled. What Katarina said could easily be shortened in Lux's head as '_eternity'_."But... No... You can't do that... I'd rather die!" She said, backing away. Katarina rolled her eyes, completely apathetic to the emotion in Lux's words, and walked forward.

Katarina stopped in front of her. She put a hand on Lux's shoulder, for a moment causing her to recoil, but then it meant no harm. "Look, Swain, me, Darius, Talon, and maybe even some of the other High Commanders really hate you... Your constant espionage and covert service has cost us Noxians lives and manpower for years."

"Those deaths are justified..." Lux said, looking away, used to this sort of moral challenge.

"And so are the deaths of yours. No wonder our war has gone forever. We both think we're right in some way." Katarina said. "But that doesn't matter right now." She raised her closed fist and opened it for Lux to see. Lux looked as Katarina raised were three violet gel capsules resting on her palm. Lux knew what they were.

"These will put you to sleep and keep you... tame."

"No..." Lux said. "I will not-"

"Relax, Crownguard. They'll keep you silent for three or four days. You'll have to take it regularly though..."

Lux took steps back, eyes widened. Katarina's hand slipped from her shoulder before being withdrawn. "Those are experimental! You know that! I will not be a subject to Zaunite experimentation!" The object that was used to subdue her in the tunnels may also be Zaunite, as it is marked by an unstable, illegal technology: Anti-Magic.

Knowing this, and that they will use Zaunite tech to keep her in check, she thought that her chances of escape were thinning down even more. Temporary magic nullification was one risky thing, but days of magical silence would drive her, a born mage, near insanity.

Katarina sighed. Her smirk had faded. "I have to do this while you're energies haven't returned. Don't make me force you."

"Katarina please..." Lux said, remembering that resisting will get her nowhere. "Darius will toy with me... I don't want it... I don't want to be treated like... like..." Lux remembered Swain's words... _Darius, you dirty little swine you!... Serve to any of his needs...Oh, how I missed wine... _Then, as she for a moment wondered how Darius treated his servants, she remembered the little servant boy in the tunnels. The image of his bruises all over his limbs, and that he said he was under _Darius's_ orders.

Katarina's small smile returned, bringing Lux a sense of fear that may have added even more joy to Katarina's expression. "That is none of my business. Besides, you'll wake up just when he's already entertaining you. It will be quick."

It could not be helped... "No," Lux said. "I refuse..."

Katarina closed her eyes and looked away. She let out a breath, opened her eyes, her once smug expression now blank and unmoving, and looked at Lux. "You make this a bit hard for me."

As fast as a quick jab, she moved forward and tackled Lux. Lux found herself on the floor, back straining as Katarina placed weight upon her chest with her knees.

"No..." Lux said, somewhat wheezing as she was struggling to breath. She continued to push and move, but her limbs were either held down or unable to move in to do any sort of help."Stop... Stop!" She screamed, but a hand had covered her mouth.

"You will be better after this!" Katarina said, gripping Lux's mouth with her palm, the capsules rolling against the walls of her lips. In doing this, Katarina blocked Lux's nose and, for her to breathe, her mouth opened by reflex. The capsules entered. Lux could feel the soft pills roll from her tongue down to her throat. She gagged. The pills moved deep into her throat.

She swallowed. The struggle halted.

Their eyes met, a satisfied look to a horrified one.

Lux continued to breathe heavily, taking a moment to comprehend all that was about to happen to her after that one swallow. Her magic... Three days of total arcane silence... The mere thought of it was terror.

Katarina let herself up, returning her arrogant smirk, and looked down on Lux. "I never would have thought Darius would bed a Demacian... Well, not that he has bedded anyone." She said. "He is always silent about matters such as that... You must feel special, Luxanna."

"No! I won't!" Lux said. She can feel the first trickles of sleepiness inside her body. "He will not be my first one! I will not allow it! I..." She began to sob again. Her tears would no longer come out. Those old romance stories her aunt told her, they mean nothing now.

"If you had not fallen into my trick, if you had been a little brighter, if you had think before following those trail of tears! Then maybe you would still have the choice! Now it's nothing but allowing everything, you poor, wretched Demacian! I will savor your humiliation."

"You're..." Lux began. "You're heartless! You're a monster, a damned monster!"

"Hah!" Katarina laughed afterwards. "Aren't we all in our own ways? Besides, I'm only following my orders given."

"That doesn't make anything right!"

"It never did. I think you had said the same not long ago."

Lux gritted her teeth, so hard that she appeared to barring them at Katarina. "My brother will kill you!" Lux shouted. "Demacia will avenge me and all those you have slain and made suffer!"

Katarina only smiled and laughed once again. "We'll see about that."

Lux started to feel weights under her eyelids. She stood up, her body weakly supporting her, then leaned against a chair's headrest. She turned her head to Katarina. She was only a tall blur. Then Lux looked back down to the floor, as her head felt heavier. "I'm... I'm an embarrassment..." She said, the words spawned by a drowsy, altered state of mind. "Aren't I?"

"You always were, Luxanna..." Katarina said, although Lux wasn't sure if it was Katarina who said it. Everything was blurring. The drug had begun to make its way to her head. Hallucinations...

"Garen, mother... They always thought that you were insignificant, so they have nothing to do but put you to use... You are nothing but a tool... Your ideals of justice are nothing but lies... You were used all your life..." Who was talking? Was it her? Was it Katarina? They were all faceless whispers. She thought that her head was spinning in all directions. Everything felt numb and cold. She had lost her balance and had fallen.

"So, you had to compensate. You longed for their gratitude. You longed for their smiles and appreciation. You yearned for a real family, a real brother, a real mother, a real father... But you've never earned them, and that is nothing now... You failed. You're nothing but a soldier, soon to die, and your family will scorn you for the rest of history for being a _mindless castle whore_... "

Then the blurs began to fade. There was a darkness that shrouded her vision. Rest... It would feel so good. If she just closed her eyes and... _No, I have to... I have to stay strong... For Demacia... For my people... My family... I... I have to... _The darkness had taken everything. Every nerve of her body screamed for a moment's rest... She needed only to let her eyes close and... _I have to stay strong... Have to..._

It was unbearable. She surrendered.

_I can't..._

The warm comfort took her body, like a mother's gentle embrace, but after it, it could be nothing but a dreamless sleep, and the hope that what truly embraced her, was death.

**III**

The roar of the crowd was almost deafening, but her brother had always said: the louder the roar, the greater the glory. Lux, on her horse followed by a cavalry brigade of Demacian Valor Knights honor guards in their full Demacian armor, waved her hand to the crowd as ribbons and roses fell like a congratulating rain around her.

Demacia was beautiful today, and the sunlight causing the famous Demacian marble to glitter, made everything even more beautiful. Even the polished armor plates of her retinue and perhaps her own headband glittered and glistened with a golden luster, suited for the beauty of her land.

By the end of the aisle, there was her brother and her mother, all clothed in the royal blue of noble Demacian garments, and standing upon a white marble threshold.

Luxanna could not believe it. Her brother was usually out in the field and her mother would be busy in her work as a Councilor of Demacia. Now they were there and, from their looks, she can tell that they were happy to see her.

She stopped at the bottom of this threshold and dismounted. Her joy couldn't be held, so, as she hurriedly climbed up the stairs, she couldn't help but let out tears. When was the last time she cried? She couldn't remember.

Lux arrived at the top of the stairs, and, with the truest smile made by whatever achievement she has done, hugged her mother. She never returned her embraces, but now, she did, her warm motherly arms holding her tight. It made her happier than ever. As Luxanna embraced, she caught the sight of her brother, _smiling_ at her. He had never seen him let out a true smile since the days of their childhood. She had made him proud. She had made Demacia proud. But to make her family, the Crownguards, proud was enough.

This day was the most beautiful one in her life.

"Mother... I missed you so much..." Lux said. She closed her eyes and let the tears fall. "Mother, I'm so happy, so very happy to come home."

"I missed you too, Luxanna, we all did..." She said as she gently caressed her daughter's golden hair. "All that matters is that you are here, my noble daughter."

Lux could feel her heart melt upon hearing those words: _noble daughter_. She had never called her any of those, not even _daughter_. Lux faced up to her mother. She could tell that her mother saw the image younger of herself in her. She could see how proud her mother was, as the light of her crystal blue eyes that she so inherited reflected the joy back to Lux's eyes. Her skin, the tone of the softest butter, seemed to glow in the sunlight.

"You look just like me, Luxanna, it seems my past beauty is immortal because of you." She smiled.

Lux made a soft grin. "Of course... Of course, mother." She did not know what to say. Lux was proud to have inherited her mother's former beauty, as now her mother was but an aged figure of her past.

"Ah, Lux." Garen approached them, his stern soldier's voice grabbing both their attention. They broke from their embrace as Lux wanted to embrace him as well. In a moment, Garen hugged Lux, held her aloft, and spun her around while shouting in joy along with her.

"Garen, put me down!" Lux said, laughing and screaming all the while as he spun her. When was the last time he had done this? That didn't matter.

After the last spin, Garen had placed her down. Their eyes met and they smiled at each other. She could see the once adventurous boy of a brother in him once again. He offered his hand. "You have served Demacia well, my strong and dutiful sister." He said, eyes sparkling with a certain pride for her little sister.

Lux's eyes widened. Nearly dumbfounded, she shook his hand, a surge of a long gone closeness overwhelming her when she had touched her brother's hand. Then, still holding her hand, they faced the roaring crowd. _The louder the roar, the greater the glory_ Lux thought, watching the excited crowd of Demacian royals and commons.

"Citizens of Demacia!" Garen said, a proud voice at the volume of his loudest commanding voice. "I present to you, my one and only sister, a paragon of all female Demacians, the powerful Lady of Luminosity, Luxanna Crownguard!"

Their roars boomed.

Lux could cry even more. They were all proud of her. She looked to her right and saw only the proud smile of her mother, and to her left was the proud look of her brother as he raised her hand up and yelled her name for the crowd to hear. In front of her, to the distance, was the empty sunlit horizon, blue as ever and cloudless...

This was all too unreal.

_Was this all real?_

Her truest, most joyed smile faded.

No,

No. It was not.

**III**

Sunlight and its fiery touch over her shut eyes awakened her.

She can feel sweat all over her skin. There was the feeling of her side pressing against soft cushions.  
Lux opened her eyes. A large window allowed faint beams of sunlight to enter the small room. The sun had just risen. The heat was penetrating. An instance of dread arrived to her, remembering of what Darius was to do to her, but the feeling of clothing covering her skin relieved her. The leather and cloth of her Demacian Reconnaissance gear she still wore had entrapped heat and kept her sweat in. _Why haven't they removed my armor?_ Lux wondered. Even her bear fur boots weren't removed.

She wasn't used. Lux felt relief and maybe even a second of joy. It was short-lived. She reminded herself. _I'm still in Noxian captivity... Anything can happen..._ Lux thought, but, to her, at least the worst had not yet began.

Had she dreamed? Lux could not remember. Although she knew it was a pleasant dream, a dream of a reality she had longed to see. She wished to sleep again if only, but she was wide awake and would not want to sleep once again in the midst of Darius's household.

She rose from the bed and looked around her.

_It's clearly a bedroom. _The floors were wooden, and of the famed Noxian Alloywood, a commonly used and reliable material in Noxian architecture for it was smooth and soft to the feet, yet very durable and almost fireproof.

By the foot of her small bed, was a vanity. Across the room, sitting to the wall, was a secretary beside a writing table. Beside the door, a large wardrobe with its doors strangely opened wide.

_Perhaps nobody lives in this room? _Lux stood up from her bed. The walls were of smooth, large stone bricks. That marked a rich merchant's or noble's house in Noxian society, as stone work was expensive in Noxus. Lux knew that because of the Noxian books she had read. It was one noticeable detail that she had discerned herself.

There was a painting near the door. After closing the wardrobe's doors, Lux caught sight of it. It was an awfully familiar scene illustrated within its frames, traced by an amateur but it wasn't far. She knew the work's name and it was painted by an anonymous Ionian who happened to witness the battle within the painting. It was during the Battle of Kalamanda, and this painting in particular, Lux knew the name of the scene within it.

_The Raven and The Dragon_

Jarvan IV and Jericho Swain locked in bloody combat as Demacian and Noxian warriors engaged in bloodshed all around them. Lux herself was there, aiding to the wounded and fighting in the melee.

She remembered the bloodiest moment of the battle... When Swain channeled all his dark energies and morphed into a demonic raven. He cut into droves of Jarvan's Valor Knights, leaving heaps of mutilated armored bodies. After Swain had slaughtered the Demacians, Jarvan met him, fury burning in his heart having seen his best soldiers so effortlessly killed by Jericho. His great lance met the scythe-like talons of Swain within an arena circled by jagged rocks, and from there, their rage and hatred roared and burned as they clashed, steel to talon, blade to magic...

That specific moment was caught in this painting. Lux wished never to return to that moment in time.

Footsteps approached. Lux looked and backed away. The door opened.

Darius stood by the door, topless and wearing loose trousers. He appeared to have just awoken as well, and he was sweating, much more than Lux, from a morning exercise routine. His expression seemed to not have changed since the last time she saw him. Always stiff, always annoyed in some way. Lux felt that she lost a heartbeat in fear. She could not feel her mana at all. She had no defense. He owned her, and he could do anything to her.

"Afraid?" He said. "Good. Your fear will keep you in check."

Lux noticed that he was holding something. _Folded clothes?_ She was right. They were green and seemed to be made of light fabric.

Darius stepped inside and scanned Lux's body and appearance. "You look like a mess. No servant of mine will look disgraceful in front of my peers." Darius dropped the folded clothes and turned to exit. "Change and make it swift. I expect that you be downstairs to begin your duties."

Lux couldn't help but ask, out of worry: "What will be my first task, Darius?" She said.

"Do not address me by my first name, Crownguard." He said. "From now on, you will call me 'lord' or 'master'. Do not forget that you're my personal servant." He turned once again. "Is that understood, servant?"

Lux had bowed down her head, not wanting to look at him. "Yes..." She said, unable to continue. To address in title at all times meant subordination for the Noxians, and that would mean consensually giving herself to him.

"Yes what?"

She caught sight of a closed fist, a subtle threat from Darius. Lux had no choice.

"Yes, lord." She said.

"Good, servant." Darius said, turning back. "When you are finished, you will cook for me. Does that answer your question?"

"Yes, lord."

"You're nothing but my personal servant now, closer to a pet than a slave, remember that. Your cooking better be palatable..." Darius left and shut the door behind him.

_A pet..._ Lux thought_._ As far as Lux knew, people don't couple with pets, not even Noxians. Now she was getting mixed feelings of uncertainty and fear for her new master, uncertain because Darius didn't act the way that she expected.

_A_t_ least the first duty will be easy _She thought. Her cooking was not bad, that's if he had the right ingredients, even she was confident at that. She had even earned her a short compliment from Garen long ago for a nicely done stew. She knew how to cook even more than just improvised recipes on the field, and if she would do it right, she believed that she might just get on Darius's good nerves(if he had any, she thought).

But she feared for the rest of her duties. They could be anything.

Yet, realizing that Darius had not touched her at all, it made her chest feel lighter. For a moment, she thought it fortunate that he, Darius, claimed her instead. It was definitely better than Swain's judgment, but she had to be wary no matter what. Darius is a man and she is a woman, and he owned her. She had to expect the worst to happen at any time.

Lux sighed and looked at the clothes on the floor.

_There's no choice... _She thought.

Lux picked one garment up and placed it against her chest to see if it would fit her.

* * *

AN: While I was writing this, I imagined Rengar and Karthus(my AP main, yay) narrating the first parts, and I don't know why. And while Garen was spinning Lux around, I imagined him doing his E (_'BREAK THEIR RANKS!'_) for a moment.

Anyway, I know that Darius only appeared for a short time, but the next chapters will compensate. Oh and, THERE WILL BE DRAAAAAAVEN(and maybe even LeBlanc and Talon, if they can fit), just you wait. And yeah, I guess there'll be some forceful scenes soon, but still no raeps(maybe?). There shall one day be lemon(or smut?), but for now, we're going smooth.

And thanks again to those wonderful people who reviewed! I feel the spike of satisfaction sink deep into my heart knowing that there are people who appreciate this. You inspire me to keep on going! I like dat.

So, thank you for reading. All criticisms, no flames, and see you on the next chapter!


	4. New, Unsure, Different

**Chapter Three: New, Unsure, Different**

_Twenty four, twenty five, twenty si- _Somebody knocks on his front door.

Darius stopped doing push-ups and stood up straight. He faced the door and approached it, knowing well who is on the other side. He opened it.

A Noxian wearing his half-armor without a helmet saluted to him. He appeared to be panting, as whatever business he had might just be urgent. His free hand had a piece of paper held. "Forever strong," He said, but rather quickly.

"Who is it from this time?" Darius said, as this messenger stopped saluting and handed him the piece of paper.

"It is from our office near the Fleshing, sir." Upon saying that, Darius glanced up to him with a stiffer expression. He looked back at the letter. On it, there was a small signature that Darius recognized. He looked back to the messenger.

"Is this the only message this morning?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Darius turned, and went inside, shutting the door behind him.

His eyes had been stuck to the letter as he tore it open from its parchment envelope. He took out a folded piece of paper. It was in quill and ink.

_Dear big brother,_

_How's it doing? Your little(yet bigger!) brother, I, The Glorious and Unstoppable Draven, is doing very fine, bathing in gold, women, and fanatics as I write this! I still don't understand why you won't join me in the arena! We can make a great duo! 'Darius and Draven! The Siblings of Blood!' Can you hear that? It's the roar of the crowd and the raining of a million gold coins! Well, I know that won't work. Still gripping to that 'contentment' mindset? Huh, even that I don't understand, with what we've been through and all._

_But no time for sentimental stuff! This is no sad letter! I, Draven, despise boredom, and sentimental stuff has too much of it! Let us get to the point of my beautifully constructed letter! I realize that you might feel too lonely! How's not having a woman with you, brother? Lonely isn't it?But I, Draven, have hundreds of ripe Noxian women, just ask and I might give you a young one! _

_And, because of my brotherly sympathy, I, The Generous and Caring Draven, will be there to visit you! Again. Sometimes, being awesome and loved gets too tiring that I, Draven, have to relax! And what's a better way to relax than with my brother!_

_I shall give your house the pleasure of having my presence after the Fleshing's noon session. Best have tons of food ready! _

_Your not-so-little brother,_

_Draven_

Darius puffed. _Why today of all the damned days? _He thought. Draven had a knack for visiting him once a month, and Darius knew well that his brother visited out of sheer 'pity' for him and bringing about his annoying and boastful presence. Perhaps, Darius would always think, that his brother aims to persuade him to join the Fleshing. Every visit was always the same, but, with the servant around, Darius felt uncertain. Was it his brother's impulsive behavior that he always lived with? Or was it the fear for being offered a sack of gold for a Demacian woman in his household?

Now was not the time to think of it. Darius felt the need to be wary, but didn't wish to go on thinking, he still had an exercise routine to finish. He folded the letter once again then placed it at a small table nearest to him.

Just as he was about to resume his push-ups, his new servant, who had been idly watching him, stood beside the fireplace of his house, at the side nearest to the stairwell. Her eyes met his, a wide, nervous anticipating feminine stare to eyes with one furrowed brow. Her hands, resting in front of her, clasped together, tight, unsure, and stiff, just like the rest of her posture. She looked away from her new lord's expecting stare.

"Where should I begin, my lord?" She spoke. The house was indeed small, having only two floors, two bedrooms; what little lighting was provided by glossed and caged windows, as far as she has seen, unfit for a man of high rank such as Darius, Lux thought, but, lost in her nervousness, she asked and needed herself to be directed.

Darius looked to his right, to where the entrance to his kitchen is, then, he pointed to it as he looked towards Lux. "Begin there. Ready my breakfast well, but do not be too wasteful with the ingredients. Meat, vegetables, and a loaf of bread is enough for me."

"Yes, my lord." Lux moved on to where Darius had pointed her to go. As she did so, Darius returned to doing his routine of exercise, as if they hadn't talked at all. He counted and counted, but even as he counted, he thought of his duties, his brother, and his servant. Somehow, all those three did not seem to mix well in his head.

**III**

When she had entered the kitchen, Lux realized how truly small her new master's household is. It was only a small room, connected to the living room, with no backdoor exit. A glossed window to the opposite side allowed sunlight to enter; the room, being so small, had enough lighting from just one window. At the center of this room, were crude stones placed in a circle with ash in the middle; hanging above it from an ashwood stake, was a medium cooking pot, seemingly made of black pewter.

Near the cooking fireplace, were numerous covered pots and bowls of varying sizes, each containing a different ingredient. By a wall, was a cupboard. There was no dining table, not even chairs, only two brown cloth mats facing each other near the cooking fireplace, interrupting the circle of pots and bowls around it.

_How could he live like this?_ Lux thought. All that made up his household was cheap or average, no different from a commoner's home or a even a peasant's! She knew well of Darius' power and influence, how he had pillaged lands and made many a Demacian and Ionian women widows, and, with that, he should have some large amount of _wealth_.

Whenever her brother spoke of him, Lux had always imagined Darius to be sitting inside a dark heavily-guarded fortress, his bloodied throne so high atop a mountain that is formed from the armors and weapons of his fallen rivals, the bottom surrounded by bruised slaves who futilely polish each rusting armament. Truly, his new master was becoming full of surprises, and Lux, no matter how strange it was, didn't like it still.

She continued on to the cooking fireplace. Lux had taken three logs from a small pile at the corner of this room, along with some twigs and smaller fuel from a sack near the said pile. She placed them together inside the stone circle, and, after taking the flint and steel that had rested by one of the larger stones of the circle, she begun to start a fire. Soon enough, a spark was created, and it met the smaller fuels, and then the twigs, then the logs. A fire was born. This was no different from what she would normally do in the field, but she was somehow puzzled since she realized that she was doing something usually done outdoors and for survival at a Noxian nobleman's kitchen.

Lux inspected each pot. One was a pot full of oil— olive most likely, Lux thought— another, a smaller pot, had salt. Basic ingredients, then, as she continued on, she found more; salted meat(goat meat, she assumed), vegetables(carrots, lettuces, potato, all of them already cut), water, butter, and honey.

_At least his food has some variety..._ She thought, and then she inspected the bowls. Each contained varying exotic spice, commonly found in the market. Normally, a noble would have imported spice, or to the very least, high-quality domestic spice, but all this looked so cheap to Lux. She had been to a Noxian noble's house before during one infiltration— a brigadier general's, three ranks lower than Darius' own ranking— and his new master's house _and kitchen_ looked like a fly compared to his subordinate.

But she was regarded as a kitchen magician at the palace, secretly helping in her family estate's kitchen when she could as a child, and disguising herself as a palace cook whenever some occasion was called to preparation by the king. When she wasn't at Demacia, she was cooking in the field, either for herself or for a regiment she was marching with, using the rations and ingredients they could forage. No matter how cheap, this was no challenge, and she felt that she could impress her new lord. For a moment, she felt confident.

She had begun cooking, mixing in the ingredients, starting with the oil, letting it simmer for a bit, then everything else one by one. With mortal and pestle she had taken from the cupboard, she grinds spices that create new flavor when powdered together. She sprinkles them mid-way through her cooking, along with the salt. She mixes the ingredients inside the cooking pot with a wooden spoon.

Her eyes were focused, her mouth silent, and her mind at work. Sweat trickles down her forehead, both from the work and the fire lighting her face as it lit at a maintained strength. The sleeveless skirted green tunic she wore still did not help with Noxus's morning heat, and she assumed it still wouldn't help during the colder night.

All the while as she cooked, Darius leaned by a wall, having just finished his routine, watching his new servant do her first task. Lux kept the string that kept a clove of garlic in place when it had hung with other cloves by the cupboard, and, after she had peeked into the cooking pot, she was beginning to tie her hair to a short ponytail, but she had stopped, realizing what she was about to do. Darius watched, tilting his head in curious wonder. She stared at the string, resting on her palm. Lux had lost focus. As if realizing consciousness, Lux turned her head up, noticing Darius, and there he was, watching her, shoulder against a wall, topless, body sweating, his large arms crossed, and expression the same as always.

"Well? What is wrong with tying your hair?" Darius said.

Though Lux felt that she shouldn't answer, she continued on anyway, fearing otherwise. "It is a sign in Demacia... A simple ponytail shows that a woman isn't of noble blood and is put to common housework or peasant work everyday, my lord." She returned to stirring the pot, the string still in her hand. "I was always forbidden to tie it in such manner, and, when I felt the need to tie my hair I... I noticed what I was about to do... my lord." She said, nearly forgetting the title.

"You're no longer in Demacia. If it impedes your task, then do so, if not, then you are only holding onto a stupid, unnecessary Demacian custom."

Lux wanted to argue, to explain why it isn't _stupid_ and _unnecessary _as her mother had to her, but she realized that she had no power, and that Darius was by all means a stranger to her. But she had to agree, that she indeed was no longer in Demacia. Silence passed, and Darius continued to watch as she stirred and added smaller amounts of ingredients. _I wouldn't have this problem if I had my damn headband... _Which she had awoke without it. Somebody must've stolen it. _Katarina? _She thought it most likely.

After a minute or so, and without a word and without thought, she halted stirring and tied. Nothing stopped her, no moment of doubt, she noticed. Her status was gone. It meant nothing now. That was all true to her. It didn't matter in the city of their sworn enemies, and, she believed, she had lost another part of her. Shortly, she wore a simple, short ponytail and continued working with it.

Darius said no word of it. He expected it. He cared not for what she felt. What mattered was her humiliation and that she remain under his servitude. Thoughts ran in his head, mostly thoughts of planning out his day and how he would have to deal with his servant _and_ his brother. She is at least consistent with her titles, he noticed, but he didn't feel the respect and honor of it. He knew when a subordinate meant his 'my lords' and 'sirs', and that bugged him. _It takes patience... One day, she will find it to respect me_. He faintly remembered a lesson taught to him long ago by his mother, that one must never be followed out of fear. And why was he remembering his mother? Darius noticed it, and knew why.

Lux reminded him so heavily of her. The way she focused, the way she cooked, the way she moved, and even the way she cried the night before. Her mother was meek, and Lux was as well, and being meek was the reason why... Darius didn't want to remember further. He didn't need to. That is left behind. Nevertheless, he returned to looking at her. There was something to his new servant; in how she worked and how she concentrated, how her eyes focused and how her hands moved patiently yet efficiently. There was this smoothness to it, something felt when watching nature or when seeing gears move perfectly. Then, he felt the growing need not to look away, that observing her was touching his eyes softly. He did not know what it was, and he did not like it. He looked away when she looked up again.

"Do you know how to polish a _large axe_?" Darius said, breaking silence, then returned to looking at her.

To this, Lux strangely blushed and pulled her eyes away. She stammers first. "No, I do not know how to and wish not to, my lord."

"Why do you sound so nervous, servant? Surely, you are very used to polishing swords. _My axe_ is not particularly the _largest_, but I believe it would not take much effort to polish it."

"Oh, my apologies, my lord. It's just that 'polishing a large axe' has an entirely different meaning in..." Her voice drifted. "In Demacia..."

Darius smirked at her innocence. She clearly was far from Katarina, who would laugh upon hearing some dirty implication and reply with another one. "You are no longer in Demacia, servant, as I've said. It seems that you're not entirely in the dark, at least. Should you know, we use 'holding the banner' here in Noxus. So, do you know how to polish an axe?" He said, a weak smile sounding through his tone.

Lux felt lighter and embarrassed for bringing up the implication. "Yes... I do know how to properly polish an axe, my lord."

"Good, you will be polishing my axe whenever needs be." Darius said, finding it difficult not to smirk. "You really should not have mentioned it, servant."

"My apologies, my lord." Lux said, embarrassed, mouth stiffened. Even so, the air felt more easy, and, she had discovered that her master does have some amount of humor.

"I shall be the one to polish my armor, and you will be taking my cape to the washer once every week, understood?" He said, serious once more.

Lux immediately picked up and responded. "Yes, my lord."

"And you shall bathe twice a week, sleep only when I order you to sleep, check if the household is in order, and cook all my meals from now on."

That did not sound too hard, Lux thought, but it was knowing that she will have to be ordered around every day from now on that made her feel more uncomfortable.

"You will be accompanying me whenever I leave. You will not speak with my peers unless I bring you into a conversation, and you will stick close to me unless I say otherwise. If they order you, do not follow their orders unless I say so. Is that all understood?"

"Yes, my lord..." Lux said, rather weakly and unsure. This new life was going to be different for her, so different and new, and she was doubtful of it. At home, she had her own servants, ironically, now _she_ was the servant. She could speak whenever she wanted to speak, now she only spoke to answer and ask questions. She could go out at any time, here she could only go out to accompany her master. At morning, she would play with her spells or use them to help her with day-to-day work, but her mana no longer tapped with her; the surging of power in her veins could not be called, thus, she is silenced. It felt uncomfortable. It felt new. It felt different. But it was better than Jericho's judgment.

As she thought of it, her stirring had become mindless as she stared into the pot.

"Servant, how long until the food is cooked?" Darius interrupted.

She looked up with the speed of her train of thoughts having broken. "Oh, not long, my lord." She returned to her task, and tasted a spoonful of the bowl. "In fact, it is ready, my lord."

**III**

Darius had taken his own bowl and a seat on the mat opposite to Lux's. His bowl was no bigger than his head and he ate with, out of all the instruments, with his hands. Lux had studied Noxian culture, and she knew that eating with one's hands is traditional, yet unnecessary if one had enough wealth to afford silverware. _Such a strange noble..._ She thought. _Why not be in a more decent standard of living when you have all the wealth and power to do so? _Lux, a woman of thought, could not think of an answer, and wanted not to. She had better things to worry about.

"Your cooking is..." Darius said after he had swallowed his food. "More than adequate..." The flavors exploded in his mouth. He did not pay so much attention for taste and he did not know how to put the spices and ingredients gifted to him by conquered chieftains to proper use, yet this woman had managed to cook them and synchronize their flavor well in just one bowl. The goat meat was buttered and slightly honeyed for sweetness, the vegetables were buttered as well, and the spices that were scattered all throughout left a hot and flavorful feeling in his mouth.

"I hope you have not used too much ingredients though." Darius said. "I wish that these kinds of meals be made with little cost..."

"Certainly not, my lord, I used portions, not piles. May I ask, my lord?"

"Yes, servant?"

"Where is the servant boy? I saw him in the tunnels and I believe he is the one who lead me to the... trap."

Darius swallowed again. "He is not my servant. It was Katarina's. She has been tracking your movement in the tunnels for a very long time, and though you changed it often, she ordered the tunnels to be shifted in a way that forced you to move in a pattern. She knew that you used her form as a disguise frequently, so she commanded her servant to come under my name instead." Then he took another bite of a handful.

_So, she told you how everything went. _She had a feeling that every noble in Noxus knew how she was captured now, judging from how boastful Katarina could be. Though the embarrassment was far, she could feel it for a moment.

Lux fell silent. She thought of Demacia, the marble halls and verdant gardens of her family's estate, and how she would not see them for a long time... She thought of her brother and her mother, expecting her return, but finding that she has failed. And mostly, she thought of herself, if she could survive and stay sane in the heart of Noxus.

Darius noticed his servant's drifting, lifeless stare towards the fire.

"Eat, servant." He said. "I've left some for you. It is a waste not to harvest the fruit of one's effort."

Lux looked up, but he appeared as if he had not spoken at all.

_Is this generosity he is showing? Or practicality? _Other Noxian nobles let their servants starve and walk like limping skeletons. She remembered the bone thin servant boy, the bruises all over his body, and the simple dirtied rags he wore. Why was she being treated differently? It was unfair. It wasn't right. But even so, she felt thankful, relieved even... Did it matter to think for others? She is a Demacian, that is something they could not change.

Lux's look had been a look of uncertainty. Darius looked up and gestured to the pot as she still had not moved. "Eat."

"But other servants, my lord. Other servants eat only crumbs..."

Darius allowed a moment of silence to pass as he chewed and swallowed before he could answer. "You're not in Demacia."

"I know I am not, my lord, but it is still not right."

"It does not matter if it is right or not. You are hungry. You need nutrition. You will eat. The servant boy is none of your concern."

"We are branded the same. He is suffering and I am not, my lord."

"He is none of your concern." He emphasized. "When you need to eat, you need to eat. Do you think of me as another Noxian noble, no different from Katarina or Swain?"

"No, my lord. Your household shows it."

"Then do not expect me to act like one. I discipline my subordinates but I do not treat them selfishly. Now, I will make it clear, your personal sense of righteousness will not work in Noxus. No Demacian can be raised a Demacian in this land. You will use your hands and eat. That is an order."

Lux felt her words weak. "Yes, my lord." Then, reluctantly, Lux took a bowl and filled it with food from the pot using the wooden spoon.

It still did not feel right. Eating with her hands felt entirely new, and she had done it carefully, slowly introducing herself to this way of eating. She watched how Darius ate his food, grabbing it with all his fingers then taking a bite. It looked primitive to her, and she tried the same, and she felt primitive. It did not combine well with the feeling of having been defeated and subdued with words.

The rest of their meal was eaten in silence, until it was once again broken.

"My brother shall be coming here later by noon." Darius began. "I expect that you will prepare his food and act properly. You will stay close to me the entire time that he is here."

"Why so, my lord?"

"He is... impulsive. He finds it difficult to recognize what is not his. That said, you already know the full answer."

Lux followed through. She knew, or, rather, remembered who Draven was. Xin Zhao, a friend of her brother, spoke of this Noxian. _A savage wolf who seeks only blood and glory... _He stained a memory of one infiltration. She once had to take an unavoidable detour through a Noxian brothel. Through the smoke of the crowd and the stench of ale and beer, she could hear the womanly cries for 'Draven.' She did not bother to check.

"I understand, my lord... I will be careful." Lux said. "May I ask again, my lord?"

"What is it, servant?"

"My sack, my lord. May I know where it is?"

"It is in my own room."

"What of its contents?"

"The parchment that shows naval movements in the Guardian Sea was returned to Admiral Varell. The trivial pieces of literature though were left untouched. Your choice of books is questionable, servant... A femininely-inclined piece of social writing, a retired Noxian major general's battlefield journal, and a disgusting romance made by an executed Noxian writer."

"Executed...?"

"Yes, executed. He was a Demacian-Noxian peace advocate. He was sent to the Fleshing. He did not last long."

Lux felt a slight sense of pity for a person she never knew, a same pity seen when a beggar is ignored. Were Noxians that war-bent? She has never heard of peace advocates in all of her infiltrations in Noxus, and come to think of it, not even Demacia has she heard of one. "How cruel..." She muttered.

"Why did you steal those books, servant?"

'Stealing' was a difficult term for her to answer to. "I wished to know more about Noxian culture... It would be foolish to be left ignorant about the enemies that we have been fighting for so long, is that not right, my lord?"

"Hm, you have sense. How many pieces of literature have you stolen?"

"I've lost count, my lord, but I'd say more than fifty."

Darius raised an eyebrow. "And you have read them all?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Interesting... Do you know how to write well?"

"I'm well versed in the Common Voice, and I can decipher and write an amount of arcane script."

Darius stayed quiet for a moment as he thought of something. Lux awaited for another question, as it is very seldom that someone asked her of her literary habits. Even in the midst of capture, she felt that she was merely a guest at someone's house, though, for some reason, the sense of hospitality and hostility is kept well-balanced that she did not know if she should be relieved or discomforted.

"I too used to steal books when I was younger." Darius said. "I've learned to read the common voice that way, but not once have I picked up the quill. I have my letters written for me, and even my brother has his letters written for him. So, by evening, when your duties are finished, you will teach me how to write."

Lux did not know if what she felt was excitement, as uncertainty still lay in her head. Her superior is truly unusual. He lives in a commoner's house, eats with his hands, and does not know how to write. If she had not known of the tales of his conquest, if she had not known of him at all, she would find Darius to be indistinguishable from another average citizen in Noxus.

"Yes, my lord. Can we use the books as references?"

"If it is needed, then do so." Then he placed his pot down and took bite into his bread. After chewing, he spoke. "You will help me and I do not care how long it will take for me to write a sentence on my own, so long as you teach me properly."

"Yes, my lord. I will do it to the best of my ability."

"Good. We will begin later evening."

Then they continued to eat, finishing and drinking cups of water after.

Lux felt lighter, and maybe, even better. It was still inconvenient since she could not feel the surging of her mana and she could not see familiar faces, but it was, to the least, bearable. She just had to obey and stick close with her new master, and she believed she might last long in the darkness of Noxus. Her new master... He was strange. He was a Noxian, and, at the same time, not a Noxian, and that was something new that Lux herself didn't understand.

"Your full name is Luxanna Crownguard, correct?" Darius said as he stood up.

"It is, my lord."

"Hm, it's not good to carry a Demacian name here. If someone who does not know you asks your name, use a different one."

"Like... Xanna, my lord?"

"Or Anna. It does not matter which, but it has to be different, most particularly with your last name. I suggest Veausux, Mavon, Lavette or Marquien, common Noxian family names. You do not know who will ask you for your name, especially when I send you to the washer or to a market."

"Yes, lord." _Xanna Veausux... Xanna Lavette... Xanna Marquien... Anna Marquien... _She hated how it was presented to her, as if she had to choose wisely. _Anna Lavette... Anna Marquien... Marquien sounds better. _She had encountered that last name before, in a book she had read, the name owned by some fictional Noxian woman who wasn't so important in the story. She had forgotten the title, but what mattered was the name.

_Anna Marquien... It's decided..._

She realized something wasn't right from choosing a name. If she had looked into the mirror, would she recognize herself? Surely, she still can, but with all these new things; the clothes she wore, the hair she tied, and the name she had just chosen... She wouldn't be allowed into her estate with such appearance. Something definitely didn't feel right. Though there are new things, she for a moment swore that she will not forget Demacia. Why did she have to swear? To make sure, to not forget? Then, that only meant that somehow, eventually, something will change. She can predict it, feel it like a warning tinge in her stomach, and she did not like it.

"Something on your mind, servant?"

"Nothing, my lord. I just feel different in this new environment."

"Hmph... You will grow used to it."

_I hope not..._

* * *

AN: I'm so sorry for that long delay! I didn't expect so much work after returning from that trip. I had to compensate for what I left see. So, erm, back to the story! Hopefully, my life outside this website will provide me enough time for the rest of the days!

I find it somewhat difficult to brew the chemistry between Darius and Lux, but they'll tap. Soon enough, there will be romance between my tank main and this support character, as expected. Let's make it build first, eh?

And thanks again to those reviewers and followers! You guys make it easier to write and I enjoy entertaining you people! I was surprised and happy that there were people wanting this to keep going! I am satisfied knowing that you people are satisfied too, and I just wanna say that you guys are awesome.

Thanks for reading this one. Review if you wanna, critcs are A-OK, no flames, and see you on the next chapter!


	5. Weakness

**Chapter Four: Weakness**

The gardens of the Crownguard estate were among the most well-tended and well-known of all the other gardens of the Demacian Houses. Flowers of vibrant colors surrounded by plants with large and lazy leaves lay in every garden bed along with smooth stones placed in decorative fashion, all of which surrounding the many lawns that was snaked by rock pathways. Wells and water shrines were sometimes seen as one would walk by, and the stones of which were allowed to be overgrown with vines that grew leaves and smaller colorful flowers. The sound of water pouring added well to the sound of the wind clattering the leaves of every tree and plant.

Pairs of servants dressed in elegant Demacian servant wear moved about the garden, walking steadily and having soft conversations as to not disrupt the garden's calm quiet that contributed to its beauty. Occasionally, there was the average guard standing at a fixed position, usually by an intersection of the pathways, eyes unmoving and mouth shut as it should be. There were tiny groups of guards that also moved as patrols, but they were seldom seen as a garden full of armed men wouldn't particularly look attractive.

On a paved clearing, a small wooden table with curved iron legs carried a teapot and two teacups placed on white plates. One teacup was empty and the other halfway done, the steam of it long faded.

On one chair, sat Lilia Crownguard, with her butler, Bavis Wayknown, standing by near the table, awaiting any orders. The somewhat old lady's hair carried a large bun with loose strands falling off of it, which was a hairstyle that she was well-distinguished for.

"Bavis, pour me more tea, please." Without a word, he did so. "Thank you." Then she sipped once, letting the fresh heat settle in.

Footsteps emerged from one pathway, and out came a man with long black hair accompanied by two of his own helmeted guards. His men wore armor, but he was dressed in the royal fashion for Demacian nobility; a fashionable blue garb with separate loose capes covering his upper arm. If he had not kept the lengthy strands of his hair behind him, they would melt down his shoulders unkempt. He walked with obvious distinction, and he looked to Lilia with a confident smirk that was further enhanced by his broad yet sharp eyes.

He stopped behind his expected seat and bowed deeply to show more respect. "Madame Crownguard, it is an honor to be in your household."

Lilia gave him a nod, saying: "Good that you are here, Sir Daenos of House Holymain." He returned to his bow, his smile retained. "Please, have a seat, my guest."

"Of course. Thank you, madame." There was this nervousness hidden underneath him that Lilia could sense in the weakness of his movement that exposed the uncertainty of his smile, yet he did well to show that he was only eager for what they were to speak of.

Lilia sipped, her eyes not following her guest, who was thanking Bavis as he poured Daenos tea into his empty teacup. "Hungry, sir?" Lilia offered as she set her tea down. Daenos found it difficult to find the tenderness of her tone as she combined it with a furrowed brow on her aged and stiff face.

"No, not at all, madame, I've eaten enough."

"Hmp, very well, I too am not hungry. Perhaps your guards are?"

"Don't worry about them, madame, they are well-fed in my household." He took the moment to sip as Lilia had no reply. Daenos continued on. "You have a very beautiful garden, madame, it is not wonder that they speak of the Crownguard estate's facade as one of the most pleasurable places to be in. Our garden is dwarfed by such magnificence."

Lilia made a tiny smile but her brow had stayed in place. "I thank you for your compliment. I myself had the pleasure of retaining its beauty when this estate was inherited to me."

"I believe you hear such compliment very often, madame." He smiled at her.

Lilia made a short laugh. "You're not mistaken, dear, I do so often and I take pride for it."

Daenos set his tea down after taking another sip. "Now, well, on to... matters, madame."

"Of course. Garen and Jarvan the Prince in particular has spoken well of you to me."

Daenos smile grew large upon hearing it. "I have not failed them as a comrade. I've served well in the Vanguard and have recently been given the honor to be promoted to Prince Jarvan's retinue."

"The Valor Knights?" Lilia said, her face showing intrigue.

"Correct, madame. I have already completed my first mission after my initiation, and I did so with much excellency."

"Interesting, very interesting." Lilia said. "The other men who have tried have spoken of their own achievements but none have come close to yours..."

Daenos smile continued to be maintained. "That is good to hear, madame. I am confident that I am the most worthy of them and I am also confident that we can establish a good connection between our houses."

"Your father has told you of the rivalry between our houses long ago, no?"

"He has indeed, madame, and though it is no longer in effect, we would like to establish this arrangement to clear such ancient and long forgotten dispute. I am sure it would not hurt to mutually continue our bloodlines with this agreement, and it would be an honor to name one of our blood under the House Crownguard, the well-renowned Paragon Family of Demacian service."

Lilia felt a tinge of flattery from this man as he spoke well of her family. "Demacia does need more able men and women for its service, and you seem to stand out well for a house not so well-known in the nobility, no offense intended."

"None taken, madame, I understand that, and that is why my family wishes for more recognition by, well, merging me with your house. My father is a good friend of your husband, known him even before the mandatory training and he has no qualms for such deal."

"I know of their friendship and my husband sometimes speaks of him, how they were good companions to each other. It would be an excellent choice that you seek for your house's recognition here, as us too have no qualms for it. We would benefit mutually from such... arrangement. After all, with such a fine suitor such as yourself, both you and Luxanna would make fine and prodigious children for Demacia."

"Speaking of your daughter, I wish to know more of her. I've known of her endeavors and it will not trouble me to be wed with her, madame." As he said this, his smile faded slightly.

"She is a product of my husband's arrangement, similar to Garen. Other than her normal reconnaissance and infiltration duties that one might hear so often, she also studies arcane script and reads mountains of literature. She does not often talk with people, but she is a lively one in a conversation. She knows what is right for Demacia and I can assure you she is an obedient woman."

Daenos couldn't hear the pride in Lilia's voice. "Do you see her often, madame?"

"No, I do not, even after she finished her training. Council duties drowns me with business that concerns the welfare of Demacia. I've only ever known more of her from my servants who interact with her more often."

"Oh, I see..." Daenos said. "Is she present today?"

"She is not. Luxanna is out with another mission from what I've heard. She stays home for at least three days a week, more often than during that Kalamanda crisis. I'm sure her duties will come to a halt after your wedding."

There was silence as Daenos only nodded at her answer. They sipped again. Lilia gestured for Bavis to add more tea. "Just a bit more, not to the brim." Then, after it was poured, she sipped again.

"Have you told her of such arrangement?"

"No, I have not, and I will once she returns. I have discussed this with her father, and both of us have agreed wholeheartedly. He has left the entire arrangement to me, though."

"Hm, do you think she will... object?"

"Oh please, Sir Daenos, when I was placed against the same situation, I did not object because I knew what was good for my nation, and that I would bear fine children with my husband. Garen and Luxanna are proof of my success, and not once have they failed Demacia as any Crownguard should. It will be unacceptable if she decides to betray tradition, and believe me, it would not trouble me and my husband to disown her if she were to put the slightest shame to the Crownguard glory."

Daenos furrowed a brow. It seems to him that Madame Crownguard was a degree less tolerant than his own parents. He quickly disregarded her last sentence as he felt that it might be uncomfortable for both of them to speak of continually. "Has Luxanna herself spoken of anyone else that interests her?"

Lilia snapped her fingers. "Bavis, answer his question, please." She sipped.

The short, aged balding Demacian butler slowly nodded and turned to Daenos. His voice was rather raspy and old, but still coherent at a low tone. "None, my sir, Luxanna does not speak of any other interests, and does not pursue such topic when it is presented to-"

"Enough, Bavis, that will be all."

"Yes, madame." And he returned to standing by idly.

"I hope that this will not cause any internal commotion, madame." Daenos said, his smile now thinner. "I barely know her, madame, and that I will admit, but I feel that it will be more... _comfortable_ for her and perhaps even for me if I would first earn her consent before anything else by bonding with her."

"Ah, don't worry about such, my good sir. She is obedient and I believe she will find you to her liking eventually, if that concerns you. What matters is what both of you can give for Demacia, as that is duty. But feel free to do such _bonding _if you wish; the arrangement will push through though, and it will matter not if she does not agree at first. There is nothing to fear."

"Hm." Daenos thought of it. "You are right, Madame Lilia, it is our duty, and be it uncomfortable or not, the arrangement shall push through for our houses' mutual benefit, and for the good of Demacian royal blood's continuity. I shall still attempt for her favor anyway, madame, as I am interested in her and hope that she will see the same."

"Very well, Ser Daenos, I wish you luck for whatever _romance_ you have in store for her. I shall send word for preparations after I have discussed this with her."

"Understood, madame. I shall tell my parents that I have discussed for them in their stead, and that the arrangement is agreed upon. For the good Demacia."

"For the good of Demacia. This will be a mark in our houses' histories, yes?" Madame Crownguard smiled.

"Indeed, madame, and for the life of me and your daughter as well." His smirk returned and he took another sip.

**III**

Lux made herself busy as she wiped the used pots with a wet rag. Wiping by hand frustrated her in a way as she thought of using telekinesis if she just had her _magic _alive with her right now. It wasn't efficient and Lux found herself frowning as she worked. Every time she let the towel out, there would be bits of leftovers that were too small to be picked by hand. Seeing it scattered upon the rag caused her to grimace before submerging the thick cloth into a water-filled bucket near her to clean off the bits. She was careful not to let the bucket spill, and at the same time, she had to make it quick as her master, who had just left the room, had ordered.

She finished cleaning, returning the pots to where they were taken.

Darius hadn't returned yet, and he didn't have any other instructions, so Lux was left to wait by the fire. It hadn't died yet but it was significantly weaker than it was while she was cooking. She stared into the flame and felt its heat. The room's temperature was already hot, yet she still felt the warmth of the flame comfortable. She found the touch of its heat pleasant, as it always was when she ventured in the fields and wildernesses.

Then, as she stared, she begun to think, think of ways to escape and at least leave with a bit of honor intact. But that was easily forgotten when she tried to kill the flames with magic that she did not have. She cursed at herself for the stupidity and simply decided to hug her knees and watch as the fire slowly died as its fuel burned out.

It never occurred to her that relying too heavily over her spells and magic would come at a massive disadvantage one day. This day and the day before it, she felt like a brilliant individual weighed down to a foolish imbecile. She did not know how to act covertly without having some cloaking or disguising spell to aid her. Even then, if she merely cloaked herself with a cloth mantle that she could possibly find around here or used a false badge Darius might have, she will still be _picked on_ for her femininity, and she had no means of defending herself once she is out of Noxus. She can't risk it either. She remembered Swain's judgment.

And, like a splash of water to a candle flame, the prospect of escape faded from her hopes.

_Foolish..._ Lux thought. Prevention was a wiser choice than solution, that was what she had taught herself, and Lux knew that she could have prevented all of this if she had not been overconfident and if she hadn't strayed from her original mission. _Will I ever come back?_ Lux had hoped that she will, and she promised her brother after he debriefed her that she will not fail and that she will come back.

She imagined pictures of home, showing like a mirage among the flames as the fire died. The magnificent gardens and halls of her home, the servants that she would often talk to, the butler whom she enjoyed speaking to, her room, engulfed in scrolls and books; and, most of all, her family.

She felt the back of her eyes well, but she refused to let them out, save for one roll of tear. _Stop it, Luxanna... Stop crying... Dammit... It will be okay... Just stop being so weak..._ The fire had gone even lower, and all she could do was watch it. She has cried too much over home already, and only now did it truly occurred to her that she could do nothing over it.

Again, she felt trapped, and felt weightless. She shouldn't have been following orders from a _Noxian_ noble; that wasn't for her royal blood. She hated the thought of following more orders, to submit to Darius, a butcher of Demacians, a man so hated all over Demacia for slaughtering many a thousand Demacian soldiers. Her brother might hate her for obeying such man, and she could not even imagine her mother's reaction. But what else was left for her to do?

"Servant," Darius voice emerged, stern as always. Lux whipped her head behind her to look.

Darius, now wearing a woven tunic, moved his head slightly aback seeing the watery shine of Lux's eyes, illuminated by the dying flame. There was silence.

Lux wiped her eyes and stood. "Yes, lord?" Her voice didn't crack, but the wet trail that ran down her cheek made her current state obvious.

Darius only frowned at her and approached her. "You have been crying even when you slept."

"My apologies, lord." Lux wiped her eyes once more.

"I wish that you stop being weak, servant, and that you accept the circumstances of your defeat." Darius's voice had been unchanged. He waited until Lux finished wiping her eyes. "Now can you serve?" Darius no longer paid attention to the fact that she cried.

"Yes, my lord." The wet trail that was left hadn't been wiped off. Darius raised a hand and let a thumb erase the shining residue of her only tear. Lux was caught, surprised. As a reflex, she held the wrist of Darius's hand. The grip gentled when she had realized what she was doing. She glanced up to him. When once she had felt weak, now she felt weaker. He was so close, and his hand wasn't stiff, as if it was caressing her skin. "My lord..."

"I don't want you to be presented in this way. A tear is a sign of weakness, and you can only give your weakness to the people and things that deserve it." Darius said, a bit softly that it didn't sound so stern. His thumb had traveled down her chin, the wet trail now gone. "I hope that whatever caused this tear was worth giving it to, because I will not have subordinates freely crying over the smallest things."

"Home..." Lux said. "It is home that I've given it to, my lord... and family."

"Hmph... Now is not the time to mourn this early morning. You still have duties to follow for me." His hand had escaped her and she did not wish to look back at him. "I will give you permission to mourn later night. For now, I want that you be presentable, else you show that I beat my servants, which is something I would not want to people to believe."

"You are right, my lord..." Lux said. He was so... lenient, yet strict. _Why are you being so mercifully cruel? _Lux didn't know. Lux didn't know what to think of this man, this new master of hers. She was taught all her life to hate Noxians, and this man was known to be an example of everything Noxian that she has ever seen, heard, and read. He was a butcher of men, one that did not hesitate to kill his enemies, and her brother spoke only of bitterness and rage towards him. Yet, he had done nothing bad to her so far except show the intention to humiliate her.

He confused her.

Lux let her eyes meet his. They made contact. It was only supposed to be a glance that would communicate her uncertainty towards him, but Lux found that they were looking longer than it was politely acceptable to.

Darius turned away and continued on. "You are familiar with the streets, servant?"

"Yes, my lord. I've memorized them."

"Very well, then you won't get lost so easily. Use the spare rags in the cupboard and wrap them around your feet. We will visit the washer and I will show you to the market."

**III**

Lux had left the house with him. Darius wore wooden sandals that wrapped around until his ankle, and she only wore rags that were thick and lengthy enough for her to cover her entire feet with. At least it provided enough cushion as she stepped out to the dry cobblestone.

Immediately, when they had opened the door and taken a step out, the noise of a bustling Noxian street engulfed the sounds around her. This district in particular was the Middle district, where merchants and commoners with high-paying work resided. This place was safer than most, as it was inside the walls, and Lux was thankful to that as she didn't step out to any other _less decent_ district.

The sun for a moment was covered by a large blanket of clouds, veiling all under it in a faint shadow. It was somewhat less hot without the sunlight, and Lux wished that the sun could be covered until the afternoon to mitigate the heat.

The streets were large enough to let platoons pass but small enough not to let a catapult in. Street lanterns were placed at intervals and they had already been extinguished. The Noxian folk were moving here and there. There were men going about with conversations with a myriad of topics that could not be identified through the noise. Children were running and doing mock battles with wooden armaments, shouting and laughing as they fought the real battles that they would one day participate in. Women were walking together, giggling behind large fans(that Lux had come to know as self-defense weapons in disguise). A patrol with armed men in armor lead by a Noxian officer on a horse consisting it walked by, silent and armors clattering. The scent of varying colognes filled the air around anyone.

The streets of Noxus were not strangers to Lux. She had been here all her life and she had read of it time and again in the Noxian books, described in many different ways by many different authors. It was not always gloomy, as she had been told before she had been here, but it got livelier and livelier as one progressed up the Great Skull, the granite mountain that was the base, center, and landmark of the city of Noxus, so named for its macabre skull-like resemblance. The higher up the mountain, the wealthier, safer, and more powerful the residents. Lux actually tolerated having conversations here while in disguise; the people had genuine humor and liveliness when they were not being arrogant, as opposed to those in the lower districts who spoke only of violence, ignorance, and complaints with sour tongues.

A horse carriage passed by, and Lux had to stay close to her master. She noticed that everyone wore rich and formal Noxian outfits, but her master looked like a peasant among these people. Even she had better clothes than her master, but it seemed that he had no trouble wearing such clothes among his people and they didn't seem to care or notice.

"Don't stray." Darius said, close enough for her to hear.

Lux didn't answer and followed as they begun walking. She glanced behind her, curious at what Darius house looked like on the outside, and it wasn't far from what she expected. It was dwarfed by the two larger houses beside it, which were wider and that had more floors. What was wrong with her master? Lux began to wonder even more, but she had to focus on following him through the crowd.

As they walked, Lux exchanged glances with some people who seem to notice that they have never seen her around before. She had caught one whisper to another ear whilst looking at her then to Darius; they were women, and they giggled after. She had begun to notice people even more as she walked. They would look at Darius first, after, as if he was a common sight, they would look away, but turn back after having noticed Lux staying close to him. She guessed that Darius never had a servant before, and to see a servant beside him was something new to them.

"My lord, why aren't they saluting to you?" Lux said, keeping up with his pace.

"They don't need to. They know who I am, I live among them, and they see me everyday. I will tolerate that they don't salute, that is understandable, yet I will appreciate those that salute to me everyday."

One man, a tall young man with a lean build stopped in front of Darius and saluted immediately. Darius returned his salute and finished the exchange. The entire time both of them were silent. "He is one example of those who salute every day."

"Who is he, my lord?"

"A young recruit. He says that I inspire him and wishes to be under my battalion one day."

"Do you think he will make it?" Lux had realized that she spoke as if in casual conversation.

"If a man has a fire in his heart, then he can do anything. And I've seen it in him." Darius wasn't so quick to disregard her. "Only ask me important questions next time, servant."

"Understood, my lord."

They had made a turn to a street. Darius's pace was hard to keep up to, and Lux found herself making strides to catch up with him. Soon, they made another turn, but into a door. A bell rang above her.

A large counter divided the entire interior. No one else was there save for the storekeeper, an old balding man with a monocle made in Zaun, and a woman waiting by the counter. There was silence the moment they entered, the glass pane keeping the sound out. There were clothes of all colors and outfits hung to lined hangers behind the counter. Baskets of folded clothes were also placed upon shelves behind the old man, who was reading a news pamphlet and smoking tobacco from a pipe. The strong scent of his tobacco almost overpowered the aroma of clean and freshly washed clothes.

Darius cleared his throat, which caught the man's attention, who only gave it by lazily looking up. "Ah, General Darius, sir." He placed his news pamphlet down on his stool as he stood up. "Yours is ready, sir." He turned and took a circular basket with a deep bottom behind him, placing it on the counter after.

"Thank you" Darius took it by both ends. It wasn't so heavy. "Servant," He passed the basket to Lux.

"Yes, lord." She said as she took it, having no trouble carrying it. She looked inside. There were tunics, trousers, and a pair of small sandals all fitted inside.

"Those are your clothes. You will fix them into your wardrobe yourself." Darius said to her, at a lower voice.

"She is your servant, no?" The old man asked. Darius and Lux turned to him. "Never seen you with a servant before, milord."

"She is, and she is obedient. Servant, introduce yourself to this man." He said, as if to demonstrate her obedience on the spot.

Lux stood, unsure of what to do. She made a shallow bow and introduced herself stuttering at the first words. "I am..." She was so near to saying her real name. The man raised an old brow at her and Darius had turned his head towards her, hoping that she wouldn't embarrass him. The name... She had discussed it with him. Yes, she remembered now, her name was "Anna Marquien. Please expect me to be coming here alone next time to deal with my master's clothing."

"I will remember, my dear."

"We will be going now, Adammus. She will be back after two or three days. Thank you for your service." They turned and began to leave.

"Take care now!" The man said, and when the bell rang and the door closed, he returned to his stool and to his pamphlet. "That was quick... Ah... General Darius, a strange man..."

**III**

"Do not forget your fake name next time, servant." Darius said, moving at a slower pace to accommodate her slower speed with the basket. "I will not be having them know of a Demacian as my servant for now." He said, but not so loudly.

"Yes, my lord. I will be more carefu-" Lux stopped. She heard something. Something out of the normal, busy noises of the city. It was sobbing. She turned her head to her left, towards an dark alley between two stores.

And there, a child, thin and shivering was laid on the floor. His face was covered and his bare limbs and torso had bruises and dirt marking the skin. Lux gasped and ran towards him, stopping in front of him and kneeling down after. She set the basket beside her. Lux watched as he shivered. His sobs have been louder when she had gotten closer, and his bare upper body shook against the rough stone. Sweat covered him and soaked his short black hair.

She placed one hand on a hand that covered his face. He let his hand down and looked. Lux recoiled slightly upon seeing his eyes. They were bruised so heavily that it bled and swelled. It became apparent that the more he cried, the more he suffered as the tears made contact with his wounds. "Oh... Oh my..." She glanced up for a moment and saw three heads of other boys peeking at her from the other end of the alley. "Did those three boys over there do this to you?"

He nodded slowly.

Her Demacian instinct of selfless need to help that Lux was so acquainted with compelled her to act on her own, quickly forgetting that her master was watching her. "I will help you. Stay still." Lux took one clean tunic from the basket. The clothing didn't matter anymore, what mattered was this child's life. This would've been easier with her healing magic, but she had to resort to physical means of dressing his wound.

Footsteps came from behind her. "Stop, servant, don't waste your clothing." Lux looked up. Her master looked down upon the child, his expression like stone. "He is a Noxian, let him grow like a Noxian."

"But, my lord, he is hurt too badly."

"I've seen worse done to me." He lowered himself down. "Child, reveal your face and look at me." The child did so, reluctantly, and eventually he revealed his entire bruised face to Darius. He was missing teeth and his cheeks were bulging, the skin slightly purple from bruises. "Not bad. Did you see who did this to him?" Darius turned to his servant.

"Three boys, my lord."

"Hm, cowards, going in groups." He turned back to the child. "Listen, weakling. You look pathetic and you should feel pathetic right now." The child gave no answer, and only listened. "Is this the first time that you've been beaten?"

The child shook his head, knowing well that wasn't the answer Darius wanted to hear.

"You damn rat. How could you let them do this more than once? Weak."

"My lord..." Lux interrupted.

"Silence, servant." He returned to the boy. "It disgusts me to see you like this. You were abandoned. You're alone in this world. You have no one to fend for you, and you let others pick on you like vultures. You will die a weakling. Do you want that?"

The boy shook his head. "N-no..." He said, his voice distorted by the bruises of his cheeks.

"Prove it." Darius took change from his pocket and placed it inside the boy's hand. "If you still want to add purpose to your meaningless life, get yourself a healer, train yourself to fight, find a way to earn more gold, and buy a dagger. You want to live, then pull yourself out of your misery, you little rat."

Darius stood, looking down upon the child. "Teach them their lesson, but never become as bad as them. Now go, stand up, and get out of here." The child did so very slowly, pulling himself up despite the pain. "GO! MOVE! YOU _WEAKLING!_" Darius kicked the child's leg, spurring him onward. He ran as fast as he could past both of them, stumbling for a moment then dragging himself out of the place. He was lost to the street.

There was quiet. Lux hadn't moved and Darius stared to where the child had exited. "My lord, I think that..." Darius faced her. Her voice had faded.

"This is Noxus, servant. Let him live like a Noxian."

Lux wanted to continue doubting. He was just a child, and he was bruised all over his body. Even just running out of the alley looked like it took all his strength. He might not even make it to a healer. He might just drop on the street pavement and nobody would so much as care, for it was Noxus and the people were Noxian, used to death and blood, even that of a child's. She began to understand why. Darius's steady glare messaged the idea to her. If the child wanted to live, if he had the very strength to will himself to live, then he would make it to a healer with his weakening and dying steps.

Lux felt her words soft. There was no need to argue. Again, she was reminded that she was no longer in Demacia. And so, she gave the usual answer. "Yes, lord..."

Darius turned away, then walked off to the exit. He stopped for a moment. "Come, servant, there is still the market, and we have to make it before noon."

Lux took the basket, got up and followed. She did not speak, and she thought about what she had witnessed.

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AN: Finaaallly! I got my thoughts twisted up on this chapter, but I just wrote and things got good. I hope I didn't take too long :3

Anyways, I did a lot of research for this chapter, about Noxus and Demacia and all, just to refresh my lore knowledge. At the same time, I also researched on... erm... Stockholm Syndrome, but whateva man, screw that, we came for some romance not forced love... right? _RIGHT?_

Ahem, so, I changed the summary. I think it's much better than the old one, and I also, well, think that I should change the title. Ok, you guys might not catch that, because who the hell reads the author's notes this far?!

**ATTENTION:** **I'M THINKING OF A TITLE CHANGE. **I think Prisoner of War isn't that of a good title anymore. If you good guys out there have any nice suggestions, come and say it in PM or review, I'll be happy to take suggestions! I'll give you full credit and I will really appreciate it, might even write a poem for you (that's if it's better than the title I already thought of :p) And if you think the title should stay, that's mmkay too. I'll be changing it on the next chap update, it better not be something like "Lux's Stockholm Syndrome" or something though.

I'm also good with any suggestions to the plot and I will be really happy to give full credit to an excellent suggestion that I myself haven't thought of while planning or writing this story. It'd also be cool to see where you guys see this story's going.

As this is the fifth chapter which also is the chapter that amounts the story to 20,000 words, I've finally decided to put **shout-outs! **(that you probably won't see) for the people who really showed appreciation. You guys really help me when I write, and I do this for you guys, for you niggas that clicked for some Darius-Lux forced BDSM, but found romance instead, for you good readers who inspire me and make me feel better.

I'm currently writing this at 3 in the morning so I'll sound a bit, em... shitfaced:)

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SyntheticLegion: Dear good sir, thank you for your feedback :) I will try hard to shorten the delay of my chapter-posts so that you guys can have aaaalll the candy you need. Stay vigilant, Defender of a Thousand Worlds.

Random Wyvern: You, you're a consistent and enthusiastic one! Thaaaankkk yoooou for your continued reviews and compliments. It means a lot to me. I tried to make things realistic, and I see that you enjoy my efforts! Thanks a lot! I will try my best to keep this story as beautiful as I imagine it to be so that all of you guys can enjoy it! Stay safe!

The Scorn of the Moon: You're one of the people that I really appreciate here. Not only are you consistent, but I also find your reviews to be one of the most enjoyable ones to read as they always show so much excitement! Reviews such as yours make my day, so thaaaaaaaankk you, good reader!

Stormflight: I cannot explain what I feel when somebody calls one of my works 'perfect'. It makes me go 'woah'. And you sir/madame, placed it there. I appreciate it and all your other praises that really show your appreciation. And I will continue to try to keep Lux's drama at just the right tune! Be good now! Thank you!

luuuu luuu6666yy: Daaaaamn. Every time I read that it's just rapid fire! Thaaanks a loooot! I'll see if I can slip a little Quinn x Talon if they get involved! Thanks for your suggestion and praise! I appreciate it! :)

UnforgivenWar: There shall be DRAAAAAAAAVEN! Dark past Darius coming up! Thank you!

Gabe731: I actually thought about that idea, and seeing your review made me really dig into it. I thank you for suggestion and I'm seriously considering some jealousy going on between Darius and Draven(as in very serious, part of the plot and storyline type of serious). It maybe in the story one day. Who knows? Thanks to you, that might be added and I'll give you credit if that day comes ;) Thanks again!

dasBuscus: You're right, Darius is a bruiser :) In my region though, people are too lazy to type 'bruiser' so he gets called more often as 'adtank', and it stuck to me, so I began calling him a tank, and people were like 'alright, he's a tank.' and if we needed some brick wall to take all the hits and people start spamming 'tank' on champ select, and nobody wanted to be the tank, I just go with Darius and they're k with it. Anyway, that aside, thanks for your review!

xWinterRosex: Thanks! :)

Halloween Wishes: Thanks, mate! I understand that Lux can get illogical, but I make sure that there's a good reason behind it :). Anyway, thanks for your review! I appreciate it!

And thaaaaaaaaaaaaaankk you to all those that I might've left out, and to those who followed and faved! I really really do appreciate it.

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Wellp, that was a mouthfu(or fingerful hahahahaaaahahahahah kill me)l! Seriously though, you guys help me write and I don't know what would happen to this story if I knew nobody appreciated it. Sometimes, I doubt if a chapter is any good right after I publish it, but there'd be some dude out there saying 'Oh man, this is so nice, keep going!' and I just do that. Thanks, mates. Every fifth chapter or so, I'll do another shoutout!

Anyways, thank you for reading, review if you wanna, critics are mmkay, flames nope. See you on the next one!

P.S. Longest author's note so far. meh.


	6. Following Thoughts, Worrying Thoughts

**Chapter Five: Following Thoughts, Worrying Thoughts**

As Lux continued on walking with her master, the noises grew and became more cacophonous and varied.

Vendors shout of their products, hailing anyone close enough to the front of their stalls with products and offers of their wares. The conversations were spoken with louder voices, and it sometimes had the occasional shout and booming laugh that popped all of a sudden in the middle of the ambient market noise. A donkey drew a merchandise cart, neighing at anyone who came to close to its front, perhaps trained to do that. Armed guards stood by, conversing with the vendors they've grown acquainted with, and those who patrolled, patrolled in silence.

People were moving so quick that Lux hadn't even time to recognize their class. There were some, ragged street children running around too, shouting and laughing, some in rags, others bathed and clothed, carefully snaking around the moving forest of legs that they were in. Carts and people stopping in the middle or at the sides of the street compressed the already tight moving crowd even more. And suddenly, the pavement that she was treading on no longer felt so wide enough for an army; it was not even spacious enough for a rat to travel uninterrupted in the open.

The smells became noticeable too, pervading all around her. The sweet scents of perfume were overwhelmed by the stench of fish, horse, donkey, meat, and the sweat of hardworking people who only bathe twice a month. There were other strange smells in the air, but Lux didn't even want to trace their source.

This was one of the many markets that dot Noxus, and Lux knew that this place wasn't the worst of them all. She remembered walking in the 'markets' of the Lower districts, which made this market that she was walking in appear like a Grand Trade from Bandle City. At least here, a knife cutting open your purse wasn't guaranteed if you were not careful enough.

Holding the basket of clothes made it even harder for her to navigate through the crowd, much more follow her master who had been carrying nothing. "Stick close" was his only advice for Lux, and she found that difficult to do with a large basket and an ever-moving crowd which, strangely, would not make way for a Noxian general. Her feet wrapped in rags had begun to sore from the rougher cobblestone of this place combined with her quickened pace as to catch up with Darius, who barely glanced back to see if she was having any trouble.

They stopped walking.

There were fresh vegetables and other plant produce that were arranged in wooden boxes facing outward towards the street. Behind the stall, was an apron-wearing man—not too young, not too aged— whose size and height made his stall appear like a small overturned table. He had a brown finely waxed mustache and hair done neatly to the right of his forehead. A face of a handsome matured man, but a tall chiseled body of a barbarian who would wrestle bears and wolves in the wilderness. Darius had his chin up whilst looking at him.

He wore a great, welcoming smile, soft even with a large face, not shaken at all by the appearance of a revered Noxian general. Lux had glanced at Darius even, and he reflected a small fraction of this man's smile at one side of his lips.

"General Darius, sir." The man said, his voice broad yet gentle and greeting.

"Mavid," Darius and Mavid had offered their hands at the same time. They shook. "How's Bertha?"

They let go. "Oh, you know her, sir, very jealous of my Varvara." His smile grew. "Says I like her because she's bigger and I can bring her around more often, but I tell you this, sir, Bertha can crush a skull more than Varvara can!"

"Maybe you should wield your wife in both your hands next time." They laughed, Mavid's laugh booming and Darius going along with light chuckles, though his smile would not grow as wide.

It eventually died down. "So what can I do for you today, milord?"

"Pieces of the usual, please."

"Alright, coming up!" Mavid took a woven sack from underneath his stall counter and held it open in one hand.

He took one of each vegetable, starting from the carrots on the top left corner. His hands were large, able to crush a potato to a pulp in a single squeeze, and there were streaks of scars scattered on the skin of the back of his hand, which Lux had noticed. They continued up to his large arms. There were more scars, of varying lengths and of different weapons, some more faded than others. One scar looked fresh, perhaps a dagger slash, and another looked so old that it appeared only beneath the skin, a sword cut maybe, she judged from the broadness.

_He must've gotten all of them a very long time ago..._ Lux thought. She had begun wondering why a man of such build and numerous marks operated a simple vegetable stall that he could viciously hurl at any time. She found it difficult to believe that a common street cutthroat or mugger could cause those scars. _Perhaps he is too crippled to serve?_

"Pay attention, servant." Darius said, his voice near to shouting so that he could be heard past the market noise. "He is taking single pieces of what I would usually purchase."

Lux nodded and continued on to what she was doing, looking and memorizing the pieces of produce that she was to buy whenever she would come back. The man eyed her for a moment, then it came upon him that she was accompanying Darius.

"She your new maid, sir? Does look pretty for a young one. My son Aravon might like her. What's her name?"

"Anna," Darius said, "and she isn't really up for courting, Mavid." Mavid had finished taking the vegetables and had begun roping the woven sack's opening with a lengthy tough sort of Talyak yarn.

His smiled hadn't faded. "Oh, a shame. But if you ever think she is getting lonely, you know who to call for." He winked at Darius as he gave the now filled sack to him. Darius then passed him silver from his pocket, not giving his wink or what he said any notice.

"Thank you, Mavid. We shall be off now."

"Take care, sir!" He said as Darius turned along with Lux, disappearing back into the flowing river of people. "Forever strong!" Mavid said, before kindly attending to another customer.

**III**

They stopped stall by stall. Darius did not even buy from some stalls, as if stopping only to check. Lux began think that this was an unnecessary, mere tour of this market, but she thought it better to know what Darius would want in his kitchen and not complain. Training taught her to be good at obeying.

Whenever they were trading, the stall vendors would always be acquainted with Darius as they greeted him and spoke of things concerning whoever they knew or whatever interested them, and not only that, they would always ask about the servant girl beside her, who had to stand being called a maid, a housekeeper, or just 'servant', something she was still finding the patience to be more familiar with. They'd compliment her though, with words such as 'pretty', 'nice face', and 'good looking', which made her feel more flattered than just embarrassed to be in front of them.

One thing became noticeable though, and Lux herself had observed it: that all of them had at least one scar somewhere. Even the fat lady who took care of the cheese stall, her cheek had a fissure-like scar of a slash that struck it long ago, a serrated blade maybe. The lean man operating the meat stall had a long scar tracing up his right arm. The man who worked at the fruit stall had no visible scars, but Lux had guessed that he had one somewhere, likely to be under his clothes, at his chest or stomach... She would glance at all their marks, but she felt it better not to ask about it, as it was nothing important that Darius or whoever had the old scars had to trouble himself about.

Other than that, Lux had taken care to memorize what she needed to buy if ever there was something missing in the 'kitchen', and, thankfully, it wasn't that much.

"She your servant, sir?" asked the apron-wearing tall rather fat woman who sold cheap, everyday spices in her stall. Her tied short brown hair was faintly whitening away to age, her skin fair but slowly drying of youth, and she had the worst scar among all that she has seen: a gash across her eyes, but they would not close, forever revealing the damaged, dead and gray cores. Her voice was a strange mixture of shrill and large, perhaps even a bit husky as well.

"Yes. Her name is Anna." Darius mentioned, no longer waiting for her to ask for his servant's name.

"Aye, she has the eyes of a strong woman." She had given a small woven sack to Darius.

It was unnerving to Lux, maybe even to Darius. Her head tilted almost all the way to her shoulder and she had begun quietly staring at Lux, who watched back at her with nervous, glancing eyes. Her still gaze was penetrating, unblinking, and almost lulling; for a single instance, Lux felt a tinge, a light prod in the back of her head that sparked a moment of surprise. There was a familiarity to that feeling...

Her eyes had began widening. _Magic... _Like a whisper in her mind.

She had began to speak again. "But... she also has eyes of a lo-"

"We will be going now, Hannsa. Thank you for your service." Darius pulled Lux, his reluctancy to stay near that woman evident in the quickness of his pull. "Let us go, Anna."

The woman had broken her look, and had smiled, not remembering that she had gazed. "Alright, sir! Forever strong!" She said, but her voice was lost to the crowd as the two hastily moved away.

As they have moved, the thought of the woman's watching, grayed eyes could not leave Lux. She did not know what was really bothering her. Was it the moment of faint magic prying inside her, or what the blind woman was about to say? Both perhaps, and that was worse. An unanswered curiosity grew beneath her, and it caused her to look back, like tugging her shoulder to catch sight of that strange woman past the busy moving figures, and she did see her.

The woman was happily tending to another customer. It was from afar did Lux see how crooked her wrinkling smile truly was. Then, the moving crowd blanketed the sight of her away.

A part of her curiosity left, but it had stayed, and maybe continued to grow, as she walked.

Darius carried a good four sacks of food all tied together by strong yarns that wouldn't snap, held in his right hand. Lux had stayed beside him, finding it easier to follow with him at that position. The market grew more lively(and smelly) as they continued on to its crowding core.

Lux couldn't help it anymore, and had to ask. "Who was she, my lord?"

"A former diviner." Darius said, head and eyes unturned. He sounded as if that is all he would want to tell her, and she sensed it and understood. At least he had remedied that portion of her wonder. Lux did not wish to pursue that line of questioning and followed on silently.

**III**

When Darius had visited every stall that he would purchase from, he had decided to leave the market along with his servant. They headed back to where they had entered this market.

The atmosphere finally more quiet as it was. The sounds of discreet street conversations, the presence of people with status, and the faint scents of perfume all returned, a more comfortable air. Lux had gained the silence to think without any louder noise to cloud her mind.

One little boy in the tunnels, another in an alley... They reminded her of coldness of Noxus, the face that Noxus was known for in Demacia.

She pitied them. The children of her enemies, she pitied them.

It was in Noxus that their harmless innocence was brutally shaped into a lust for war and a hatred for Demacia. She wanted to save that child in the alleyway, unlike her master, who only gave the dying child a thin chance to save himself. But it puzzled her, whether or not what Darius did was more right than taking the action to rescue the child. His morality for a Noxian grew more questionable, as well Darius himself.

It came to her thoughts once again.

Noxians were bloodthirsty monsters. Given the clear opportunity, they would conquer the lands of Demacia and annihilate her people like herds of cattle to murder. They cared little for what was right, for what was just, and cared more for what benefited them, and, at times, for what was _enjoyable _for them. They were selfish people, arrogant, warmonging, barbaric, and _evil_ people bred by greed, suffering and violence. And Darius was one of their highest, most revered, exemplary leaders.

As she had arrived to that disturbing thought, she looked at him, and there was the man, silent with an almost unmoving face. _A merciless conqueror..._ Lux thought, or, rather, reminded herself. There was no reason for her to deny that. It was who Darius was underneath. Nothing in Runeterra could change that. He was a butcher of men, the bleeding axe of Noxus, and the archrival of her brother, Garen. She wondered how many men have died because of him, how many men have been put under his axe and the axes of his fearsome, bloodthirsty soldiers...

She knew it well that he was a killer of his people, the right hand of the Raven scourge, a heartless conqueror, and an example for all Noxians and all that is Noxian.  
Yet, here she was, beside him, carrying his laundry after he had subtly given her a tour of a Noxian market.

Truly, the sight of her right now with Darius would make her entire family faint.

Realizing that, she felt a sudden, invisible shame, as if all the living eyes of every born-Demacian begun staring at her. The sound of her footsteps seem to grow louder as she herself had stared to the ground, the basket that she held felt slightly heavier, and as blank, floating thoughts ran through her head. For a moment, her worries silenced, but she felt that they have not left.

"Servant," Darius said, breaking her away from her thinking. "I want that you make the same dish for my brother what you have served me this morning."

What he said had reminded her of Draven's visit. "Yes, lord." She answered, and continued on. "My lord, don't you have any duties today?"

"No, servant."

"Why so, my lord?"

"The High Command is generally inactive since the League, save for strategizing our movements overseas. I am seldom called to the Headquarters, and there are only certain days that I am to check on the Noxian barracks when Jericho cannot. When I do, you will accompany me.

"I see. Understood, lord."

Lux felt her chest lighten upon hearing that she won't have to stay alone to watch over the household. She did not know why though. Noxus definitely isn't a safe place, not even in the Middle district, but she wondered why a Noxian general, an enemy of her people and a killer who slaughtered men by hundreds granted her a small sense of relief and security. It was confusing.

And it was frightening.

With no magic and no way to defend herself, and with Darius claiming to own her, then that would mean that only _he _could choose to protect her amidst the Noxian darkness.

She did not understand why she arrived to that realization, but thankfully for her, that disturbing thought quickly escaped her mind as she believed it should.

**III**

The door to Darius's household opened, its quiet invaded by creaking wood.

"Take your clothes upstairs, servant." Darius said as he entered, followed by Lux. "When you're finished, you should begin cooking. Make it quick."

Lux nodded and hurried on to the stairs on the way to her room; the wooden stairs sounding light bumps as her small rag-covered feet moved on, fading away as she reached the next floor. Darius closed the door behind him and removed his sandals, leaving them beside the door frame's bottom, where they were usually placed.

He turned to the kitchen, but stopped.

The sacks that he held hung tightly, but gripped even tighter as Darius heard faint sounds from the cooking room, faint, _moaning _sounds, followed by a very familiar voice.

"You wanna see Draven's_ third _axe, baby?"

Female giggles erupted. Darius's fists clenched. _Draven..._

Frustration evident in the thud of his steps, Darius moved on to the kitchen.

He stopped by the entrance, breathing heavily at the sight of three uninvited Noxian women in thin, almost-revealing dresses near his brother with their bodies so close that at least one feminine limb touched Draven's upper muscular frame.

And there was his brother, wearing the light yet exposing fur clothes that he wore at the Fleshing, sitting at the mat in front of the cooking pot opposite to the entrance, necking one of his female admirers in the presence of other two female admirers, the tips of his axes peeking out of his shoulders, and apparently unaware of his elder brother. There was a small, malicious smile as he suckled upon the clean milky neck of an apparent lover, followed by the soft moans that Darius had heard not long ago.

One of the women, a short-haired one with brownish skin, caught sight of her idol's brother leaning and watching them. Her delicate, flirtatious smile faded in an instant, but then, she smiled again and she tugged a finger at Draven's shoulder..

"Your _big_ brother's here." She said, her voice shrill and catching the attention of everyone else.

Draven raised a brow and looked to the kitchen's entrance, where his brother was. His mouth had let go of the woman, and his smile grew larger as he met eyes with his brother.

Darius looked back, unimpressed and silent. Being here to visit was one thing, but bringing along three whores was another.

"Well, greetings, big brother!" Draven said, smile piercing through his tone.

"You're a bit early, Draven." Darius said. "And you've brought your..."

"Friends?" Draven chuckled, then kissing the nearest woman by her cheeks, a fine long-haired one, who blushed and smiled after. He spoke again. "Actually, they're more of gifts, offerings by the generous Draven to his brother!" Almost in synchrony, the smiles of the women grew sharper, and the glints of their eyes shined a hint of seduction towards Darius's impenetrable guise.

"I've noticed that you seem a bit lonely since my last visit, brother, and I could only oblige! The pretty birds I brought are the prettiest of my following... Pick one, and I'll have fun with the other two..."

Darius's eyes moved to each one of them, glaring back with a disgust cutting through their flirting looks. One was rubbing her leg as she looked back, another was embracing Draven from behind as she looked up to Darius, and the final one leaned against Draven's shoulder.

Draven spoke, his voice at the edge of purring. "Any place is a place to make love. Don't you agree, brother?" He gave his still silent brother a wink past the short giggles of his female company. "Choose and maybe after our meal, we could have a bite at them for dessert, eh?" His smile more malicious.

A long breath, then Darius broke his own quiet.

"Brother," He began. "I would appreciate it if you do not bring anyone else that you did not mention in your letter next time, especially _brothel whores_." If he had hardened his voice even more, Darius's calm tone would've sounded bitterly threatening to all of them. "And I would also like that you do not reveal or swing your _third axe_ inside my household."

The sharp smiles of the opposite party had faded into weak and defeated smirks.

Draven let out a quick chuckle, not at all affected by what his brother said. "Oh, why? Would I break something because of its huge size?" Then laughter filled the room, only that Darius didn't contribute to it. "Come on brother, just a little fun with you, think of it as a bonding moment, yeah?"

When their short moment of merriment had died down, they had looked back to Darius, who had been waiting for them to silence.

He was no longer going to have any of this. "Would you send them out?"

"Oh, please, brother, won't you pick at least one?"

"No. Send them out or I will do it myself."

All of them had frowned, except for Draven, whose smile only grew weaker but never left. "There you are again, always leaving out the fun and enjoyment."

"I will not allow mindless fornication inside this house, nor will I have harlots for company."

"Fine, you don't have to pick and we don't have to make some fun, but can't they just stay? Being in my glorious presence pleasures them, isn't that right, my tasty pets?" They nodded in silence, while growing even nearer to Draven.

After a quick, heavy breath, Darius had shattered his composure. "OUT!" He pointed a stiff arm and finger to the door. "OUT, NOW!"

Draven spoke. "But-"

"_OUT!_" His voice even louder, nearing to his commanding voice, one that is enough to split the ears of a thousand helmeted men to march onward, but he knew well not to waste that voice on three wenches.

The women stood up as the voice of a general shook a compelling terror in them. They covered their faces, now ashamed and afraid, or, perhaps, aware of Darius's status and his showing pity and disgust towards them.

The door was opened by one of them, and soon, the door closed. Darius had been watching them leave before he looked back towards his brother, whose smile had gone stiff.

They had looked at each other first. "Do not ever do that again. This meeting is supposed to be for the both of us." Darius said, his voice cold.

Draven sighed. "Fine, fine, whatever you say, brother. I was just trying to give you a little enjoyment, that's all. I _am_ generous and you _were_ getting lonely..."

Darius had no time to argue, and wasn't eager to scold his brother. He continued on inside. "Just don't bring harlots inside my household ever again, and if you're bringing along anyone, mention it." He went on to the cupboard. "So, what brings you here so early?" He said, aiming to remove the tension in their atmosphere. He opened the cupboard's doors and placed the sacks inside.

"Hah! I nearly beat my fastest record in the Fleshing today!" Draven boasted, alive again. "The... unlucky ones were all so slow and limping that I thought it the best opportunity to set a new record! But anyway, I placed a new record for the second most fastest record though!"

"Mm." Darius responded. "There isn't any food yet. It will be cooked in a moment."

"Oh, don't give me anything cheap this time, brother. Surprise the glorious and awesome Draven! I deserve good food!"

Darius closed the cupboard's doors. "With the expensive food you eat, I think it will be difficult to surprise you."

"That doesn't mean you can't give me something new at all, eh?"

"You know I don't cook well, Draven."

"And I am too glorious to cook at all! Come on, brother, be creative. What will you cook?"

"I'm not going to be the one to cook."

Draven furrowed a brow. "Then who will?"

"You'll see. She hasn't arrived yet."

Draven's head was turned aback. "_She?_ Wait wait, you're serious? You have someone else with you, and it's a woman?" His voice implied that he was near to laughter.

"Yes, a servant. She will be here in a moment."

"Oh, so that's why you didn't want to choose. You already have one, eh?" Draven chuckled. "You're finally a man!"

"Don't be silly. She is only here to serve me."

That, Draven ignored. "How often do you play with her? Once a day? Twice? Thrice? All the time?"

Darius sighed. Somehow he expected his brother to act this way upon mentioning that his servant was female. Perhaps it could have been worse if his servant was male. He didn't bother to delve into that thought.

"She is a servant, not a plaything." Darius said. _And besides, fornicating with a Demacian is below me. _

"Hah! Servant or not, so long as it is a pretty woman, then go ahead! Question is, is she pretty, eh? Don't tell me it's an old hag all along. That would be a kinda weird taste, even for I, Draven! So, is she pretty?"

That was difficult to answer, for some reason. He found himself taking a moment to think of it. And he thought it strange of him.

"My lord," Lux's voice. All eyes turned to her. She had been stopping by the kitchen's entrance. "I-" She quieted as she had met eyes with Draven.

His smirk was removed.

Lux had only glanced and looked back to her master, but as she was beginning to speak, Draven had spoken.

"My, oh my, she really is." In an instant, his look had become a stare.

She was about to ask her master. "My lord, is he-"

"The powerful, glorious, handsome, and great Draven?" He stood up, pointing his thumbs towards himself, his axes softly tapping as he stood. "That's me. A shame you don't instantly recognize a Fleshing superstar such as myself, but that I think I'll forgive... And you are?"

Lux felt that his bravado had taken away her words. "Um... I'm-"

"Anna, her name is Anna Marquien." Darius interjected. His brother was acting in the way that Darius expected this morning, and even so, it was worrying him,. He had hoped that Lux remembered to stay away from him as he had warned, as his impulsiveness might just show even more when she's closer.

"Anna... Nice name. Noxian, eh?" Draven bowed a lengthy, whole body bow. He rose. "Once again, I am Draven, champion of the Fleshing, court executioner, known for swinging the fastest axes in Noxus, and the quickest, most awesome and bloody executions. I am also known for my handsomeness, remarkable hairstyle, _and_ being a god to all the ladies. It's a wonder why we haven't seen each other before." He winked. Lux was not at all affected.

Lux felt it necessary to bow. "It is good to meet you, Draven. You must be my master's-" Lux managed to say, before standing up upright again.

"No, no, no, Anna, it's not _Draven_, it's _Draaaaaav-_"

"Come, servant, begin your cooking." Darius said, and Lux lightly nodded so, but she had not yet entered.

She paused for a moment."My lord, I heard shouting not long ago."

Darius had glanced at Draven for a moment, but his younger brother hadn't moved at all nor did his eyes, subtly indulging at the sight of Anna. "It isn't important, servant. Now come and cook. I am sure my brother would like to taste your cooking."

"Yes, lord." Lux entered.

She had gone to the corner where the logs and fuel were so that she could begin the process of starting the cooking fire. Yet, even as she went, Draven continued on to looking at her, winking at her, smirk crooked, when she passed by, but that had gone unnoticed as Lux went on without giving him a glance. Draven continued to stare at her bottom as he began to take his seat, and the sight of it lengthened his smile.

Darius had been watching them both, as they were the greatest of his concerns in this time, and he was just about to notice Draven's perverted stares. When Lux had stopped at the pile of fuel, she had crouched, not wanting to reveal her curvaceous bottom towards Draven's anticipating eyes, which had eagerly expected her to bend down to reach for the logs. Perhaps Darius felt his brother's disappointment.

When his eyes had enough for the moment, Draven turned head to his brother. His large arms were crossed and he had his back to the wall, and both his brows were lowered, as if to show that he was aware(and ashamed) of what his younger brother was doing and implying.

"You didn't tell me she was this pretty, brother. I would've traded cats with you instead. And why doesn't she know me or know the importance of my presence?"

Darius felt that the last question could be answered with '_because she is a Demacian_' but, for a good reason that he himself didn't know, he felt it necessary not to tell Draven that his servant was actually a Crownguard, a Demacian noble blood. It appeared that Draven was still in the dark over what had happened last night.

"Draven, I'd rather that we do not speak of my servant. Let her be."

"Oh, why not? She looks very _juicy_ and she's very _very_ round, top and bottom. It wouldn't surprise me at all if you've already mingled her."

Darius only now truly felt the discomfort of his malice, but that unlikeable part of his brother he was already familiar with, and is still disappointed with, but he chose to remain silent. He was beginning to feel that his brother was here to see his servant and admire her shape rather than speak to him, and he could only imagine Lux's inconvenient situation as he saw her face gradually reddening, perhaps in anger and disgust, as she went to place logs for the cooking fire.

Draven had turned back to her, wanting to observe every part of her even more, watching her as she moved back and forth for the fire fuel.

"Brother, I believe my servant would appreciate it if you would remove your eyes from her." Darius spoke, hard but calm, taken as warning or advice.

Draven would not move his look away. "Come on, she is just a servant. I'm sure she wouldn't mind." Lux had neared and had began to drop more fuel into the fireplace, but even in her haste to leave Draven's near-presence, he was quick enough to let out a hand behind Lux.

She yelped as firm fingers squeezed, and she quickly backed away, eyes turning up to her master's brother with a mixture of shock, disgust, and embarrassment. Draven laughed afterwards, familiar to these sort of reactions.

A compelling shout thundered and it stopped both Draven's laughs and his momentary enjoyment.

"DRAVEN!" His brother shouted. Draven's head whipped to look at him, but found large hands reaching in to grip the collar of his fur garment. In a short movement, Darius's hands lifted Draven to the air.

Draven looked up on his elder brother, teeth barring and hands holding on to Darius's tightening grip, but were no match for the strength of his brother's hold. Lux watched in silence, as she believed she should.

"How dare you! She is _my_ servant, and she is _my_ property! You do not touch what is not yours!"

Draven grunted. The fabric of his collar and the hardening knuckles of his brother pushed hard against his skin. "Okay, okay, fine!" He said, voice clenched and gritting.

For a moment, they glared at each other, their breaths heavy, but then Draven looked away, a moment conscious of what he had done. Darius let him down. Draven took time to fix his collar and further spit a glare down to his brother."It was just a simple-"

"First, you bring brothel harlots _uninvited _into to my household, then you inflict malice to my servant. You may be my brother, but you do not own this house _or _any of my possessions. I've not given you permission to touch her nor will I do so."

Draven had finished adjusting his collar whilst looking up to Darius, his smirk stiffened yet still existent. Darius spoke once again. "Now, I think it would benefit all of us if you ignore her, let her do her task uninterrupted, and allow your visit to go just as all your past visits have gone."

"Fine. Keeping your whore to yourself, eh? I didn't know you were this defensive with your cat. We could share her if you like. Sharing is good, isn't it?"

"Silence your malice." Darius snapped. "I am not in the mood for this."

"You're not in the mood for anything." Then, Draven sat, silent, beginning to reluctantly accept his defeat. "No wonder you're still a kissless vir..." He muttered, the last word lost to Darius's ears.

Darius looked to his servant, who had not moved at all. Her eyes were still and open upon witnessing what had happened.

"Carry on. Do not mind us." He said, voice now calmer and calming. Lux nodded and went on with the starting the fire, now only receiving glances from Draven rather than having to bear the weight of stares.

**III**

Garen Crownguard, revered captain of the Dauntless Vanguard, had one bothering thought that followed his heavy, wet footsteps as he walked by his encampment.

The rain wouldn't help. It had been thundering down, and wetting him since the end of the past training session. Once it was a bright morning, sweating under the cotton of his tunic, then it was drizzling, and then the winds howled, and the clouds gathered and the sky darkened, then poured a younger sibling of a storm.

Nearby soldiers, cloths over their shoulders, standing by the canopies of their tents' entrances saluted to Garen, stiff, snappy and in the Demacian fashion, fingertips to eyebrows, all saying 'sir' with voices from their chests as their commander passed by. It was a sign of respect and discipline, two things that held marching armies together, but even with such importance, Garen payed no attention to return their salutes, or would take little time to weakly return their gesture.

His sister hadn't returned.

She hadn't appeared on the day that she promised, and she had not once arrived late in all her time in duty. It could not have been a traveling problem, he thought, she always returned via teleportation scroll. _Even if she were lost she could simply... _The thoughts cycled in his head. They had been spawned this morning, when he had expected to see his sister standing outside of his tent with an operation report, but found only soldiers moving about in the business of Point Courage and empty space.

The rain had been soaking him. Today's training of new recruits did little to take his mind off his sister. The thought was more worrisome than he had expected, and it had caught him staring. One of his closest senior officers, Xin Zhao, had even asked if something had been troubling him, and Garen had answered exactly why. But it appeared Xin's trust in his sister was strong, and expressed no worries over her return. That did little to remove Garen's own worries.

He had arrived inside his tent, the largest tent in the entire encampment, where his officers come to strategize.

Ever since the League, Point Courage, the closest camp to the Noxian border to the east, has become nothing but a training camp and an outpost. Once there have been officers with their hands on the large table at the center of Garen's tent, speaking of company movements and enemy advances; sometimes there were even Noxian assassins dropping down and attacking, rending chaos in the entire camp, leaving dead bodies, Demacian and Noxian. Now there were only empty chairs, and marker flags on the table's map of Valoran that were never again moved.

The sounds of hailing raindrops have muffled—now roaring taps on the tents thick fabric— as he stepped inside. The dripping of his wet body trickled to the dry ground below.

There was a candle at one corner nearest to Garen, and it granted faint, fiery light to the darkness of a tent in a storm.

A dry towel was thrown to one end of the table towards Garen, its cloth nearly touching the iron plate where the candle stood firm, and now hanging by the end of the table.

He looked up. Figures were on the other end of the table, far from the candle's reach. One was sitting down, another, a large eagle, was perched upon the chair's backrest. Garen recognized them, and he took the towel in silence, wiping himself to stop the dripping. As he did so, the two figures watched him, observant human eyes, and gazing, tranquil, eagle eyes.

"Thank you." He said, and he hung the towel on the seat in front of him. There, he stood beside, but he did not take a seat.

"You said you had a problem?" The seated woman spoke, her voice slow for a soldier in front of an officer. The bronze shine of her crown-like helmet softly glinted in the candle light.

Garen looked to her. Even if she were the only person watching him, the partially-armored eagle that perched had eyes that gave an almost man-like look, and so he felt the touch of two different looks.

"You can put it that way." Garen said, his tone with familiarity, not needing respect from the person he was speaking to. "I have called upon you to commission you."

She raised a brow. "So what is it? Some place needs recon? Something you're looking for?" Then she leaned forward. "Someone you don't like?" She said, but said so that it was not cold, but almost casually inquiring. "Strange that you didn't mention the details on the paper."

"I'd appreciate that what you hear from me be kept silent, Quinn." He said.

"Val and I are good at that. You don't have to worry. What's troubling you?"

Garen paused and took a heavy breath. He looked down on the table, then he looked back up, ready to speak. "It concerns Luxanna."

"Oh? Her?" The eagle had begun climbing down to an armrest, as if closing in to listen.

"She was supposed to report today. She hasn't returned from her operation."

"And you want us to find her?" Quinn rested her head upon her hand.

"Yes, and return her if you can."

"I don't see why you are worried." She said. "Val and I usually come back a bit late sometimes whenever Jarvan commissions me, and he doesn't seem to mind."

"No, it's not that." Garen paused, which Quinn seemed to notice. The eagle tilted its head. "She is to be wed, and it is essential that she returns to Demacia, it would be embarrassing if she isn't there, and..."

"You're worried that something might've happened to her?" Quinn finished.

Then there was a short quiet before he spoke again. "I believe so."

"Luxanna is an excellent infiltrator, and she is a smart woman, I can admit that. I'm very sure she's only going through a minor situation..." As she spoke, Quinn had been taking something from her pocket. She let out her hand. Soon, Valor had began to feed on the small piece of bread she held.

"I'm not." Garen said. He pulled his chair and took a seat. "I just want to ensure that she is safe. The wedding is very important and it would... Pain her mother and father, and even me, if something had happened to her."

"Really now?" Quinn muttered. "So where did you last send her?"

"Noxian High Command." Garen said. "She was ordered to find information over Noxus's current state, and Noxian naval movements."

"If what you're worrying about is true, then the Noxians might've captured her. It would be difficult to return her, since she would most likely be..." She tilted her head, not finding the heart to say that word to her brother.

"Then at least see if they killed her or not." Garen said, hastening his words. "We need to know what has happened to her, and you must find out."

Silence came. Quinn and Valor stared, and Garen had his eyes moving to each pair of eyes to return their looks. He found that the eagle's look was far more compelling, as if what was hidden underneath Quinn's stare penetrated through Valor's eyes. Garen's own stare had not cracked, no matter how sharp their looks were.

Before the quiet had become uncomfortable,"Done." Quinn said. "I cannot guarantee my time of return though. I'll need time to find her."

"Understandable. Just please..."

Valor stopped looking and had finished the last pieces of bread in Quinn's hands. After so, he perched upon Quinn's armored shoulder as she stood. The familiar weight of the large, partially armored eagle didn't appear to bother her. "Demacia will not lose another infiltrator. Valor and I will make sure of that."

"I hope so. Good luck. For justice."

"For justice." She responded, the only time that she had sounded close to one of his own soldiers.

Their conversation was concluded, and Quinn had left saluting to Garen, and with Garen gesturing his first snappy, meaningful salute for the day.

"Come on, Val... We have a princess to find..." Were the words that left the tent.

Garen watched them as they left. He wished them good luck with a mutter. Soon, they were lost to the maze of the tents and the gray of the rain.

Garen returned to his seat, and his head rest on one hand. In the entire time that he had spoken to Quinn, he had not said another worry that did bother him as well. Though the sudden absence of his sister and the significance of the wedding were important, he couldn't say the one other reason why he would want a certainty over her sister's condition. It bothered him most.

A dream visited him. A dream he couldn't remember. A fleeting dream, whose colors were faded into lost memory, but its message stained inside his mind like a picture's meaning without its picture. He only knew well that it involved his sister. Though at first it did not make sense when he first awoke this morning, it quickly did when he left his tent and found only the absence of the sister he expected to return.

* * *

AN: **SO SORRY FOR THE LONG, UNEXPECTED WAIT!**

Other than that, the chapter is quite long, yeah? Sorry if it's too lengthy, but I guess it was me compensating for the long wait time, heh. And yep, I've opened the possibility for a QuinnxTalon, I'll just have to wait and see how they'll get along in time *slow laughter*...(I've got a feeling this story is going to be super long but that's ok.)

And there's the DRAAAVV- ahem, yes, there's Draven. I found it sort of difficult to get his arrogance and bravado right, but I hope it works. I think he might be a major character soon, but for now, he'll be kinda low-tone. And I'll probably try not to make him look like an utter douchebag all the time(after all, there must be something deep down there, eh? We'll see.) And uh, yeah, _top and bottom._

**Now for some technical stuff:**

I got really really busy in the past month. I found it difficult to schedule my writing, but I was writing this whenever I had time I swear. So please, expect irregular updates, and I will try very very hard not to make the waits even longer, and, at least, if I have a feeling that you guys are gonna wait, I'm going to say it, most likely on the summary.

**About the title change: **So, yeah, anyway, other than the time problem, I decided not to change the title just yet, since, well, the title right now really is sort of fitting, and maybe when a lot more stuff is beginning to happen in the story, I'll change it, and I'll mention this title-change-thing once again in the future if it's really really bothering me already. But please, keep suggesting if you like! It helps!

And what I'm sort of concerned about right now is the cover. I guess it's not really needed, but I think the story could make do with a cover soon.

* * *

Anyways, thank you for reading this chapter(and this long author's note :3), and a big thanks to those who reviewed and continue to stay tuned! You guys rock, I feel good knowing you guys feel good!

And credits to Luuu Luuu666yyy for giving light to the QuinnxTalon suggestion, I really _really_ appreciated it! It's thanks to you that it's actually possible! I'll see if I can make that pairing work, but I tell you it really is quite possible. Thank you again!

Again, thanks for reading! Fav, follow, review if you want, constructive criticism is alright, and flames noooope.  
See you on the next one!


	7. Conversations and Sympathies

**Chapter Six: Conversations and Sympathies**

Lux was more or less comfortable that Draven had been put in a quiet fit by his brother.

He would mutter, look across the room, adjust the ring-like bronze crown he wore, and rest his head on his hand. She tried not to make him part of her concerns, but it was difficult. Once, she had glanced at him for a moment, and they had met eyes. Though he was not smiling, the spark of intention that was buried deep in his eyes was uncovered with every glance.

Darius had been thinking, yet at the same time he had been observing his brother, just as silent. It was as though Draven would make another move at any moment, and Darius would be again ready to lift him up and warn him, or perhaps do more than just remind him again. Lux had hoped Draven would have enough respect for his brother that he'd keep his thoughts and his hands to himself.

But she wondered if Darius really was truly mad at his younger brother. She judged differently. If Darius had too much of his brother, he wouldn't allow him to take a single step inside his household or tread at the edge of his presence. Noxian siblings are strange, she thought, but siblings were siblings in their own ways, they fought and made peace on their own battlefield... She remembered her own brother.

With thoughts wanting to interrupt her concentration, Lux forced herself not to think for the moment, even if she still felt uncomfortable being anywhere near her master's brother.

The soft roar of the flames and the smell of cooking food inside the pot mixed with smoke became more apparent to her. The pot needed more spice, and she had to add a short pour of butter next. She was relieved that the center of her focus had returned to her cooking, rather than to Draven, whom she was not willing to give an ounce of notice. She decided to deny him what seemed to be most important to him: attention.

"Jericho has been..." Darius began. His brother looked up to him, his glancing eyes now halted. "Thinking of expanding the Fleshing arena."

"He has?" Draven said, his brows rising, interested in what he heard.

"Only _thinking. _He hasn't decided yet, but it came into his consideration."

"Oh... Tell him Draven agrees." Then the room returned to silence. Lux had thought it... awkward, but that was one way to slowly erase the hardness encasing the air between them. Her eyes swung from one brother to another, curious if that had sparked any sort of reaction. Seeing that they had simply retreated to their quiet, Lux returned to her cooking.

"I, uh..." Draven began. Eyes turned up to him, Lux's and Darius's. "Caught wind of some white-haired Noxian girl moving around in Ionia. The guy who told me about it thought she looked pretty important, or was it pretty and important? Nah, not as pretty and important as me though."

Like his brother a moment ago, Darius's brows lifted. "Oh? Have you heard if she has any... direction?"

"I asked Pavio, the guy who told me about it, about that. He says that she's just, you know, _wandering_. No direction, just looking for something, I guess." Draven said. "But that doesn't matter to Draven, so we talked about how many scythe-toothed jungle cougars should be in the arena next session. So while they're running around trying to dodge my axes, they're being chased by hungry giant cats!" Draven smiled at empty space, perhaps at the thought of that one gauntlet session.

Lux stirred and stirred as she listened. She knew who Draven caught wind of.

"Huh, how ingenious of you..." Darius muttered. "Last time it was Freljordic war boars and glade raptors."

"And serpentine dragons, and four-winged wyverns, and snow lions, and red bramblebacks. I think we even had an angry, hulking giant poro once..." Draven looked up, recalling the thought. "That poro made a huge mess though..."

_Where does he get all these creatures?_ Lux thought. All of the beasts mentioned were extremely difficult to find, and all those who have found such beasts would most likely be disintegrated into charred remains or mauled into gory red mush. She thought it a shame that the beasts were used for crowd entertainment and forced to kill helpless people. She tried not to think of what had happened to them after they were done entertaining.

Darius sunk into heavy thinking, his eyes drifting down. Perhaps, Lux thought, he was thinking of that wandering Noxian commander.

He glanced at her for one moment, and he retreated his eyes when Lux had caught his look. Darius let in a heavy breath and lightly yet slowly shook his head.

Was it her that he was thinking of? Lux began to think so. He was pondering over something, she could tell, and now she was going to ponder with him. It disturbed her, knowing that she was the weight in someone's bothered mind. What would make her worth being in his head at this moment? She wondered, but she felt that she needn't know. At least the rough stone that covered the room's mood not long ago had melted away.

Draven set his head above the edge of the cooking pot and inhaled. "Ah... That smells _good_."

Lux guessed that it was Draven attempting to break the quiet between them, the quiet she believed she needed between them, as she could not stand the way his voice amplified the boastfulness of his words. Past the smoke and aroma of the cooking food, Lux could still trace the smell of his strong perfume and the aura of his unimpressive arrogance. Her discomfort would not want to leave, and she agreed to it.

She looked down to the pot, not wanting to meet looks with him. The moment he had toyed her with words and abruptly touched her was the moment he had given her a reason to lose all respect for him. "Um, your mustache... It's..."

"It's what? Amazing, stylish, magnificent, handsomely beautiful, worthy of praise and love just like me?"

"It's on the... food."

Draven glanced down. The long end of his hanging mustache sunk in the pot. He quickly pulled away and let his fingers stroke its wettened end. "Well..." Draven began. "I guess the food needed a touch of Draven's own splendorous mustache hair." He smiled, white teeth showing, and he continued on to caress the ends of his mustache, doing little to remove the cooking oil. Darius's sighing could be heard.

Lux felt disgusted, as though the food had been tainted. She paid him no attention, and continued to stir and add a little bit more spice. He was probably still stroking his mustache until he felt that it had forgiven him, she thought.

At least his attempts to start a conversation with her have failed. She was beginning to be a bit familiar with his style. If he could not get her directly, then he would do so subtly. Unfortunately for Draven, Lux wouldn't let him get any of her, and Darius made that sure.

After tasting the food for a moment, Lux covered the pot.

It has been getting awfully quiet again. She sat down, her legs crossed, and in a moment, she opened her mind to thoughts. There was the momentary tapping of metal. Lux glanced up. It was Draven examining one of his axes.

Three raptor feathers were fastened upon the blade's unsharpened back, a finger away from each other. He would tilt the axe, showing each side, letting his eyes admire the beauty of the blade; on his face, a smile almost as sharp as the axe's crooked, curved tip at the ends of his lips which added a wave to the tight lines of the orange war paint that traced upwards his left eye. What was not the weapon's silver blade was black, and, upon the blackened steel were golden, compact lines, like markings of a dragon's claw upon hard clay.

He spun the axe once to his side.

The metal hummed in the air as the blade sliced through empty space—his fingers so dexterous and nimble as they moved about the axe's special handle, the absurdly spiked handguard spinning along— before he swiftly returned it to his lap. In that one, clean spin, the axe had not touched a single pot nearby. Darius could clearly hear the sound of Draven's spin, but chose to tolerate it, since there was not a sound of anything breaking and that he had just about enough trust in his younger brother's agile hands.

_Is he trying to show it to me? _Lux had no doubt that he was, concluding from the way his eyes checked on her for a reaction after he had spun his axe. As far as she has seen in Noxian literature, Noxian women admired physical strength among many other features, and a way to judge a Noxian man's strength was the size, heaviness, and make of his weapon, and how he had fought with his weapon. Swinging an axe was less impressive than throwing the axe with one hand and hitting your target, as the latter needed more strength and skill to accomplish.

But she wasn't Noxian.

And if he thought that she was Noxian, then he would be heavily mistaken.

Lux placed her eyes away from his blade, not letting him assume that she was impressed. Even so, Draven continued on examining his weapon. At the edge of her sight, Lux caught Draven's smirk tightening, frustrated, maybe because she had not gave his skill or his axe any notice at all. He continued on with his weapon, and sometimes, Lux would catch him muttering to it. She had known of people speaking or whispering to their weapons(her brother was one example), and, unsurprisingly, what Draven was doing wasn't strange to her.

But never mind him, she thought. She had given him too much attention that she could bear giving. She looked to Darius, who was still and silent, his back against the wall as he sat. Then, she looked back to the cooking pot, and only then again noticed the sound of the softly roaring and cracking of the small, controlled flame in front of her.

It scratched the walls of her mind. Why did Darius let go of the chance to humiliate her? Why did he choose to defend her? Yes, that she was his property is one reason, valid only to the ear, but as she thought of it, let it delve into her thinking, it made little sense. You can give or lend what you own to others; as Draven had said: '_Sharing is good, isn't it?'. _But why? Why didn't he?

She felt it out of her place to ask. Anyone hearing her thoughts would probably judge that she _wanted_ to be humiliated. But, no, that wasn't it. She was with him, was in Noxus, was his _servant_ to be humiliated. He can do anything in his capacity to completely remove her of her dignity and esteem, and, he had all the power to demonstrate that very capacity. Yet, every passing opportunity to humiliate her was never taken at all; not when she had woken up this morning seemingly untouched, not when they strolled through the streets and the market among the Noxian faces, and not when Draven, his own brother, had shown his intention to violate her.

They were both strange, but Draven had a sense of purpose to his... _strangeness_, and that was his own ego and arrogance that he so showed not long ago. That was just him, and, taken as a fact, Lux could let her thoughts settle at that fact with only the discomfort of knowing that he was '_just like that'_' bugging her.

But, Darius was too much for her. All that he had done from the start of this day, had not been like him, or, at least, not like him in Lux's assuming imagination and early prejudices; save for the alley boy, but that was left to a different, perhaps lengthier train of thought...

She could not take the way that he acted as a fact. She could not settle with it. As though there was a hidden intention just beneath that warmonger. When somebody would not act the way that she expected, then it was either she was entirely mistaken, or that there was just something... lurking, and, that very something could just be anything. She felt that it was both: that she was mistaken, and that there was something underneath, something she still couldn't quite know or understand.

No, it was difficult to believe. Him protecting her, keeping her for the sake of company? Impossible. She smiled, as if it was a truly far-off thought. She understood that Darius only wanted Draven away from her solely because his younger brother was— at that moment— like a thief caught in his act. And what was the object that was being taken? That would be her, she concluded. He saw her as an object, a pet maybe, subjected to ownership, yet still human enough to be shamed, pitied, and humiliated. His showing perspective of Lux was enough reason for her not to pay him any respect or trust

A bitterness arrived to her thoughts.

Why did she need to remind herself? Why was she constantly reminding herself? That he was Noxian, that he was all that was to be hated in her homeland, that he should never be trusted or respected, and, worse, that he was the very Hand of Noxus, the most trusted leader of the Raven Emperor. She hated that she felt _almost_ comfortable when those reminders were not crashing through her head, and that the only speck of security in Noxus she felt was with him.

She hugged her knees and buried her head in them. The food would take a little while longer before it would be ready. She wondered if Darius had been bothered at all that he had not been acting up to what he intended to do to her. Perhaps he found it humiliating enough that she was serving him, doing menial tasks and obeying anyway. That was reasonable, but Noxians had the habit of taking more than what they needed, and that made it... questionable. And besides, who Darius truly wanted to humiliate was her brother, Garen, and her entire family.

That thought crossing through her mind left a sinking feeling of a growing shame and regret. It was a more damaging reminder.

"Damn! It's so quiet in here!" Draven said. His axe had been placed back to its leather slot that was strapped behind him, though Lux hadn't noticed him returning it. "I really really hate it when it's quiet, you know?" She felt that he looked to her, but that feeling quickly left. "The air around us all deserves the sound of my _smooth_ voice."

_And I really really hate it when you talk..._ It snapped in her thoughts.

"Hey, servant girl, how long til' it's finished?" Draven asked.

Lux lifted her head and let her hand to remove the pot's cover. Gathered smoke escaped. Lamb, vegetables, butter, spices; the aromas of all the cooking ingredients returned to the air around the cooking fire

Draven sniffed. "Now _that_ smells good!" He said, not above the cooking pot anymore for the sake of his mustache.

Lux peeked inside. She stirred for a moment, tasted, then looked to her master.

"It is ready, my lord."

**III**

After Lux had filled their pots and distributed to them, they placed their pots at the middle of their folded legs. She had filled and served Draven's pot first— as his mustache had drooped down to the first few bits not long ago— and that she was not going to eat what his hair touched, and she saw it suitable that Draven ate the 'glorious' _taint_ of his own mustache hair.

Draven commented that the food looked 'awesome' and 'smelled good' as Lux passed it to him. 'Just like me'

Darius had sat to where Lux was a while ago, opposite to Draven at the other side of the cooking fire, and Lux had to sit by the wall near the cupboard as she ate her own portion of the cooked meal. Though not as much as this morning because Draven was present, the pot was still enough to sate a good amount of hunger and still be called a 'meal'.

The others had began to eat. First, there was silence, except for their chewing, then it broke.

"Noh _dhis_ ish fud!" Draven said, his mouth full. He swallowed. "Every time I come here, it's all just some random messy looking dish with all sorts of bits on it! This is a change!" He took another handful and stuffed it in his mind. "The kaim uf fuud Dravun derervs!" He said, mouth full once again. Meanwhile, Darius had already took his first bite, silent as he listened to his brother. He had little to say. His servant's cooking was truly good, and it was hard to judge if Draven was complimenting his servant's cooking or if he was simply flattering her. Knowing his brother, it was probably the latter of the two.

Lux first had washed her hands with a bowl full of water nearby before she had to use her hands to eat. There were many things that she held with her palms and fingers since this morning, and whatever they left, had to be washed away, a necessary hygiene that she had forgotten to do with her hands-on breakfast. She would not want to imagine the dirt Darius and Draven put into their mouths with every handful, and who knows what Draven had been touching... She didn't think it further.

Draven had been talking and talking ever since he had eaten. He would arrive to the most uninteresting topics(who did what while he was in the Fleshing, how long it took for his axe to hit a certain person, how people reacted to his perfume or his _handsomeness_) to topics that would cause Darius to reply, and thus start a conversation to cover for all the quiet that had loomed a moment ago.

They had spoken of where a blade should hit to inflict the most pain or the quickest kill(typical male Noxian topics, Lux thought.). They had concluded that the sides or places near the solar plexus or at the head would cause maximum damage and an unbearable amount of pain, then they talked about decapitations, what would prolong someone's death and such. It was at that point Lux made an effort not to listen. Demacian soldiers sometimes spoke of similar topics, but not in places where one would eat. It seemed more different, maybe even worse, when Noxians talked about it, but it did seem more like them.

"So, how's Jericho?" Draven asked after they had moved on from their last topic.

"Why do you ask?" Darius said. Lux decided it safe to listen now.

"Oh, nothing, curious. He's like my number one fan after all, you know, he _pays_ me to do my thing. He puts the _court_ before the _executioner_. But _I_ put the '_Draaaa'_ before the '_veeen_'"

Darius paused before he spoke. "He is fine and of good health."

"Good health, eh?" Draven chewed then swallowed. "Having a busted leg and talking to pet birds is good health now, is it?" He smiled.

Darius's mouth had been stiff the entire time. "And speaking to your weapons is?"

"But weapons don't talk back, do they? But if they did, they'd be praising me all the day long. So damn glorious that even _things_ would wanna admire me if they could talk." Draven let out chuckles from his throat.

"Swain is a busy emperor." Darius said. "He is planning on expanding the city, and he just might make another wall in the near future. With the League's... policies, Swain thought it best to focus on internal affairs in the meantime."

"Internal affairs, huh? Pretty messy stuff. Is he going to fix all those attempted assassinations I've been hearing of?"

"Top priority." Darius let himself chew his food, then, after swallowing, he spoke. "There are still weaklings in the chain of command."

"Hah, more like weak links in the chain of command!"

"Exactly. Some are just too weak to face their enemies by themselves..."

There had been a short quiet.

"Yeah, but anyway, about the expanding thing, you think he might be thinking of adding to my arena?"

Darius raised a brow. "And why would he? The Fleshing is already big as it is."

"I think a pool might be nice, one in my room, and another at the arena ground, then I'd have an event called 'Draven's Gone Fishin'!' Oh, _man_! Imagine the possibilities! Bilgewater snappers, claw whales, conqueror serpents! And the helpless little bastards swimming around trying not to get eaten while I throw my axes like skipping stones!" Lux could tell that Draven had the entire idea at mind before they even arrived to that topic, and he had the drifting look in his eyes as he had fantasized it.

"Swain is more concerned over the bandits and highwaymen at Noxus's outskirts than your arena."

"Damn, that's too bad, but I still might do that pool thing on my own though... Just saying."

"He might allow it."

"Good then! I'll take my chances!" He chewed then spoke with his mouth full. "Cupl uf hunrer gol es no probrem to Dravun!"

They both paused again. Darius had not spoken. Lux anticipated that they speak again in that moment of pause, but she continued on with her on thoughts.

Draven put down his pot beside him. With a smile he said: "Excuse me, the world needs my water. The drain's upstairs, right?"

"Yes, just don't forget to clean if you miss." Darius said, not turning up to him.

"Yeah, yeah." Draven moved on, exiting, taking an unnoticed wink at Lux.

The stairs thudded as his heavy boots pounded against the wood. Lux could hear it from the kitchen. A sound of a door opening, the faint sound of water pouring, then: "Hah, hah! Draven _never_ misses!"

"I told you not to stay too close to him, servant." Darius said, his voice not loud.

Lux stayed silent for a short moment. "My apologies, lord." She said.

"I will not take mistakes in my orders too lightly. I suggest you be more careful for the sake of both of us."

It arrived to her as a warning, hardened by the ever-present coldness in his voice when he spoke to her. "I understand, my lord." She said, then bit into another handful of food.

The sound of pouring water had stopped, and the stairs behind her thudded again. Draven walked inside, then returned to his seat.

"Did I miss anything?" He said. They thoroughly ignored him.

**III**

She disgusted it, the small bits on the used pots. The need to use her magic frustrated her when once it had been pleasant to her. All that Lux had to do was done by hand, and anything done by hand was tenfold easier to finish with the help of the ancient, arcane arts. She used the same wet rag to wipe the pots, and she would rinse them into the same water bucket, with the leftover traces of food this morning still settling underneath the surface.

The two had finished. Draven had decided to leave, saying that he had to 'warm up' for the Fleshing's evening sessions, and as he went to door, Darius accompanied him with a small conversation concerning their time schedules, mostly Draven's.

Draven had been picking his teeth with his finger as he spoke with his brother. They were already a good amount of exchanges away from the start of their conversation. Lux could hear them from the kitchen.

Draven had just let his finger out. "You really sure you don't want to-"

"No."

"Come on, _Siblings of_-"

"Not interested."

"A Fleshing career would-"

"As I've said before and I will not repeat myself: No."

"Think of all the fans, women, gold, _fame_! I'd be Draaaaven and you would be, um... Daaarius? Danger Darius! Dare Darius! _Daaaareius_! And you could be my second-placer!"

Darius sighed. "I have duties to attend to, brother."

"Boring duties! A life of excite-"

"I'm not fond of such life. You know that."

Draven stilled in silence, his smirk retreating. "Ah, fine, whatever, do what you want. Ain't forcing ya'." Draven said. "Looks like first-place _and_ second-place are mine though." His small, sly smile returned.

"Now, for the last time, can you not try to convince me again?"

"Fine, fine." Draven said as he stood. "My name's being screamed by the crowds, and you're moving armies around! At least you're not totally boring, eh?"

Darius smiled. "Hm, I guess not."

"And, uh, about that servant..." Draven's smirk grew sharper.

Darius lifted a brow. "Don't even think about it."

"Oh, I won't. Those who can't be enamored by Draven's splendor, do not deserve Draven at all. I never thought you'd be the defensive type."

"She is just a servant. Can we make that clear?"

"Servant, soldier, noble, merchant, street cleaner, whore... Doesn't matter. Anything can happen." Draven said. Darius opened the door for him. "Now, I'll be going now! This house has now been touched once again by my awesome presence. Good luck with whatever you want good luck with, and good luck to your," He winked. "Servant. Anyways, farewell, brother who is not so big as me!"

"Farewell." Darius said, his sound not as joyed yet not stiff.

Draven's company that had been sent out were all waiting for their idol. He smiled at them. "Babies! Come here, my flowers." They all came to him as he walked down the steps to Darius's front door. He stretched out his arms and placed them behind the necks of two of the closest lovers, while the woman who was left out frowned and complained.

One of the women said something that was not loud enough for Darius to understand.

"Yeah, he is." Draven said, his volume fading as he walked away to the street. "He just likes having one pretty bird, but I, Draven, prefer flocks!"

Darius watched his brother walk down the street, their voices lost to the sounds around them. He wasn't so difficult to spot, with his clothing, large axes, towering hairstyle, and harlot company. Soon, he made a turn, and he was lost from sight.

Darius reentered his house. The door shut.

**III**

Lux had finished washing the pots, and had made sure to place them in the cupboard. The sound of the door shutting was a sound of some relief. The house was almost silent again, air clear of boasts and self-glorification. The fire became weaker and weaker as it charred its fuel. Lux watched it as it died just as she had this morning.

"Servant," Darius said. "Have you arranged your clothes?"

Lux stood and faced him. "Yes, lord."

"Good. Come with me upstairs." He said. He did not say why, and Lux noticed that.

Darius turned, and Lux followed. She'd been fending off the disturbing thoughts that were beginning to sink into her head.

They arrived at the next floor, and there, a short hallway was in front of them. They continued walking. At the end, an alloywood door with its hinges showing waited. That must be Darius's room, Lux thought, and the door to her right that they had just passed by would be her room.

Darius opened the door and entered. Lux followed, an unsure feeling steadily growing inside her.

"Close the door, servant." He said. Lux did so. The door's brass handlebar felt colder than it should, then, she realized, it was her hands that were wrapped in cold. A creeping bead of sweat trickled down her temple. Something didn't feel right. Her eyes were chained to looking at Darius whose back was turned to her, pausing for a moment, as though he was going to do something, something that she wouldn't like. The sight of a clean, done bed would not help...

Silent, Darius went to the foot of his bed. He took it by its wooden frame, then lifted. There turned out to be another layer underneath the frame, and blanketing that layer was a thick red fabric, and resting on that fabric, was a weapon, an axe. Darius walked to one side. The nervousness that came to Lux had escaped.

"I will teach you how to care for my weapon." Darius said.

Lux inhaled a slow, heavy breath. She was safe. The room had become more noticeable, now that her feelings made way for her observation. It was larger than her room. There was a bed with white sheets, and the foot of it faced to her left. A large wardrobe was to the other side of the bed, a small space between them for one to stand up and walk on. At one corner in front of her, there was an armor stand with Darius's own Noxian armor and crimson cape hanging upon its supports.

There was only one window, and it faced the bed; from there, the faint afternoon sunlight entered. On a small table to the bed's left, a candle— still long with its tip slightly melted— stood on a silver plate. That would be the only lighting in his room then at night, she thought.

"Come." Darius said. Lux walked to his side.

The axe was lengthy, its blades curved wickedly, as if forged to the winds of a tempest. Like his brother's axe, all that was not the weapon's clean blade was of darkened steel. There was the largest biting edge at its front— its blade stretching down until it faced the point where the handle and the blade merged— and there was the smaller blade, a son to the larger frontal head blade, equally curved, meant to be the biting end when the axe was swung backhand. The handle, at its very bottom, ended in a ring, the only blunt end of the axe.

On the center of the axe's head— the unsharpened base of the blade— rested a skull forged into the metal, gleaming in pure silver, its teeth sharpened, its empty eye sockets forever affixed and glaring, forever enraged. Lux guessed that this axe was crafted specifically for Darius, and that this weapon was truly his. Noxians valued weapons, and when one owned one, it required distinction, a sign that only _he_ owned it. And that was this skull. It suited him well.

He took the axe, a fist firmly holding on to the space of the handle nearest to the blade, and pulled it out of its rest. "Close the bed." Darius ordered, as he set the axe down to the floor. Lux did so.

Darius let it down to the floor, the axe silently tapping as it touched the floor, then he remained, kneeling down. Lux had pulled the frame and closed it. She stood beside Darius, then knelt beside him.

"You've said that you know how to polish this weapon." Darius began, head unturned. "But do you know how to properly maintain such a weapon?"

"My lord, to care for different kinds of weapons was one of my first lessons in training." She said, not settling for a mere 'yes'.

"Your training means nothing when caring for this certain axe." He lifted the axe by its head. "See the blades?" He pointed at them, but would not let the flesh of his finger touch them. "They are keener than any castle-forged axe. If you lightly place a finger on its bite, you would turn it to find it bleeding." Lux was expecting Darius's finger to prod it, but he pulled it away. "The blade is delicate as it is sharp. Be careful when you let a cloth through it." He looked to Lux. "Understood?"

"Yes, lord." She said.

He looked back to the axe, then pointed once again. "And the skull. Polish it until it shines. You will have to use a separate solution, for it is made of silver."

"Yes, lord."

"Begin with the handle first, then to the heads, then to the skull. Do not clean them all at the same time." He was quite particular with his weapon, Lux noticed.

Darius turned his head to her and let the blade nearer to Lux, as if wanting her to hold it. "Here. See if you can carry it. Hold it by the handle closest to the blade's center, like how I am holding it now." Lux looked to him for a moment. His eyes weren't so hard.

She returned to the axe. Lux let out her right hand. She was unsure if she could carry the blade, but her master's hand remained, doubtful of her strength to even lift the the axe's head.

Her hand gripped the upper handle, beside the fist of her master. The thick, calloused skin of his palm softly touched her's. His fingers left one by one, and as they did so, the axe's weight unleashed. Lux's hand nearly dropped with the blade, but she had pulled in time.

"Too heavy?" Darius said.

It almost felt like carrying her own staff, one that is made of arcane steel and gold, but that this was a stone more heavier. "It is fine, my lord." She said. She could lift the head, but she was uncertain if she could lift the entire weapon.

"You can place the head to your leg as you are cleaning it." He said. Darius stood up then walked away to an area behind her. Lux wanted to look back to see what has doing, but the weapon's make had touched her interest. A Noxian forged the steel of this axe, no doubt, as the steel was not smooth, but rough when one would let his finger touch it. There was tradition in their metalwork and bladework, and it differentiated a Noxian weapon from any other weapon.

There were small, near invisible lines, rivers of them, traveling all throughout the black steel. She looked closely. Thin veins of another darker metal, another type of ore mixed in to the alloy, lined the steel, waves of black. The slight reflection of herself shown upon the faint luster of the metal watched back to her, following her eyes as she examined the weapon. The heads were large, that she had to move her head to look from one part of it to another.

A sound of a drawer being pulled, tin being moved, then Darius's footsteps emerged behind her. He was once again beside her. He placed something by her right side. He moved to the opposite side of the axe. He sat there, legs crossed.

Lux looked down to her right. There were two tin cans; one with a whitish cream inside, another with a greyish, water-like solution. There was a large rag completely wrapping the bottom of the latter tin can. The rag had some patches of tarnish from its past use.

"The thick cream is a cleaning mixture for the steel, while the watery solution is for the silver of the skull." He said. Lux looked up to him. "Clean this axe. Show me how you would care for it."

Lux's eyes looked back to the axe. She thought about his order, though it seemed her eyes inspected the axe. Then, she nodded once. She didn't want to think of it anymore. She was going to clean Darius's weapon and there was no word for another choice. The weapon was already clean. So it was a demonstration, she thought. Perhaps he had little trust in her abilities to clean such a weapon.

Darius watched her. She lifted one of the tin cans and took the used rag underneath it. A tinge of reluctancy touched her. She was about to clean the weapon of one of Demacia's greatest enemies, its steel bloodied time and again by the blood of her people. She glanced up to Darius, whose showing expectation bothered her. She wanted to resist, but a stirring feeling in her gut pushed her not to. Consequences would arrive, and she would be suffering more than she was 'suffering' now.

She let her eyes away and sighed. She began to dip a portion of the rag into the open can of the cleaning mixture. There was little that she could do, and she tried to find relief in the fact that she had cooked a meal for him twice already. That did nothing to comfort her.

**III**

She had let the axe down her leg. His eyes followed the fast movements of her hands "Begin with the handle. Concentrate on one part at a time." He said. She did not respond. "Start by the ring, then upwards, to the balance of the handle, then to the head." She did so. As she treated the ring with the rag, a small patch of black tarnish would show on the fabric. So the metal was beginning to dirty itself from the air.

Darius found almost no flaw in her work. Her hands moved quickly as they cleansed the tarnish of the handle's metal. She was focused, just like she had been when she was cooking. He had noticed that habit of her. When there was work at hand, an impervious air of concentration would surround her. Her eyes had followed her hand all the time as she cleaned, not looking up to glance at him, as if unworried of what he thought of her work.

She was strange, he thought. Too obedient and so weak for a renowned Demacian. There was not a drop of resistance when he would order her, except for when she had ordered her to eat this morning. It was at that moment, he believed, Lux would not be too inclined to hesitate from that moment onward.

He thought it pitiful that she was now treating the weapon that had tasted the flesh of her own people. She was unquestioning to _him_, a Noxian. He remembered other Demacian prisoners, zealous and unwavering soldiers; to even order them to stand would cause them to spit at his face, saying that they would rather die than do as a Noxian would order.

He glanced at her. Her lips were still, and her eyes following the strokes of her hand as she moved the rag. There was a certain weakness to her appearance... so soft and young, so easily broken, so easily corrupted. Her cheeks would fit perfectly if someone were to cup his hands to hold them, and her light skin and shrill, youthful voice completed the delicacy of her entire appearance.

Darius looked back to her work. She was nearing the head of the weapon. He had been looking at his servant for too long. A sight of this Demacian nearer to him, right in front of him even, felt too different. The question that his brother had asked returned to his mind, a question that he had not answered and could not answer. He quickly shook it off his thoughts. It was needless.

"Take caution with the blade." He said, as she had begun to reach that very part. "Work with the unsharpened steel first, then clean the blade separately." Again, she did not respond. Her focus would not allow her to speak.

Lux had been cleaning out the axe heads. Her hands were swift in their work when she would treat the unsharpened metal, but they slowed when she would hold them against the blade. Darius anticipated that she would cut her finger, but it appeared that his servant took more care, and, soon enough, the blades were finished, and she would move on to the skull.

"It must shine brighter than it is shining now." Darius said. That skull was his symbol, a mark that he was known for by his allies and enemies, and it must luster as bright as its distinction.

Darius watched as she turned the rag and dipped a part of it to the silver polish. Her hands were dirtying, black to the metal's filth, and they would be dirtied more once she was finished with the other side of the weapon.

"Servant," Darius said. Lux glanced up to him, her hands slowing as she had to listen past her concentration. "When was the last time that you bathed?"

Her eyes turned up, as if remembering, then they returned to her hands. "Four days ago, my lord, before I was on my way to Noxus."

"I see." Darius thought of it. There would be time tomorrow, that is if nothing urgent would occur, and if there was the time, then they would be able to bathe.

Lux took the axe by its balance and its upper handle. With much of her strength, she pulled, biting at her lip as she did so, yet she only managed to lift the axe inches away from the ground before resting the head against her leg again. Darius's let a small smile rise. She would have difficulty maintaining the axe by herself.

Darius stood and took the axe. Lux looked up, taken by small surprise as a sudden, firm fist took the axe from her folded legs. He flipped the axe, hopping it up both his hands, then letting the front axe-head face Lux. Then, he let it down back to her leg, careful not to suddenly the release the weight upon her. "There." He said, before sitting once again. "Go on."

Lux looked up to him for a moment. Their eyes met, but then she returned to her work.

"Soon, I will teach you how to care for my armor. If you cannot maintain the axe by yourself, then I believe you will make do with the armor plates."

"Yes, lord." She said, soft, not breaking away from her focus.

Darius nearly liked how she was competent, but that also frustrated him in a slight way. He didn't expect a skilled and experienced spy, let alone a Demacian soldier, to be cooking his food or cleaning his weapon with no resistance. Perhaps she understood that she would be under his service for quite a long period, and so she had to obey rather than bear the consequences of resistance for an extended time. It was a subtle sign, he thought it, a sign that she had begun to lose hope. But he remembered her a time ago, crying in front of the cooking fire, saying that she had given her tears to her home and her family.

Her weakness placed him at the edge of pity. She was too different, _too unlike_ a Demacian, those brave, formidable enemies that had kept the armies of Noxus at bay for generations. It bothered him.

"Servant," Darius said. Her attention did not shake. "What does your... brother think of you?"

Her hand stopped for a moment. It moved once again, slower. "My lord, why do you ask?"

"It matters not why I am asking." He said. "Answer."

Quiet took her. "I am not sure, my lord. I..." Lux's eyes stilled. "I know that he is not displeased by me."

"But you do not know what he thinks of you?"

Lux paused. "We don't... speak too often, my lord"

Darius's eyes drifted to one side. "Hmph, it seems I am not the only one who lacks communication with my sibling."

"It seems so, my lord, but, I do not think I would have long conversations with my own brother if I were to speak to him... You are fortunate to even speak with your brother..." Lux said, her voice weakening, as she realized she had been blurting out an opinion concerning her master.

Darius stayed silent for a moment. _Is she sympathizing with me?_ Pathetic, he thought it, but, she wasn't wrong. "What would happen if you were to try to speak to him?"

As their conversation went on, the movement of Lux's hands would gentle, the weakness sinking in to the heaviness of her thoughts. "He does not have time to idle and converse. I am... I believe, just another soldier in his eyes. I obey, I follow, and I do not ask, and, so long as my duties are done, he is content. Not once have I..." She drifted. "Failed him..."

Darius looked up to her. "He is not a good brother to you, is he?"

A heavy breath escaped her. "I guess not anymore... my lord."

* * *

AN: Phew. The chapters just get longer and longer. That's not intentional, mind you, heh. Thankfully, this one's wait time wasn't as long, eh?

HAH, HAH, DRAVEN **_NEVER_** MISSES!

So uh, not so much happens in this chapter, but yeaaaah, I think we're starting to start to form a tiny, teensy bond here, heh? I wanna see that bond expand, but it will take some time though, after all, this is really just the first day. A lot will happen. I might be skipping time at some point in the story(but not soon), I swear that whatever time skip I do, there won't be anything important missed out.

And uh, addressing what RandomWyvern mentioned, I believe the League of Legends and its summoners and such won't have so much direct significance in this story. They do exist, yeah, but I just think League matches just don't happen so often. The nations are just... stagnant towards each other. No wars, just progress and, as said, internal affairs. I think it'll be figured out even more as the story progresses, but, really, thanks for your input!

Update: Quick chapter title change, nothing much, heh.

* * *

Anyways, thank you for reading this one, and thank you to those who fav, followed, and reviewed! I'm as eager as you guys are to see where this story will go, and, seriously, you reader guys are awesome. Your reviews mean a lot, and, criticism or praise, they'd still mean a lot. :)

Thank you again for reading this chapter. Fav, follow, or review, criticisms are ooookay, flames nope. See ya guys!


	8. Guidance

**Chapter Seven: Guidance**

Darius was beginning to be aware of his servant's growing discomfort. He had a pushing, assuming feeling that this was one of the thoughts that his servant has been giving drifting, unmoving stares to, as the mention of his brother caused her to emulate the same stare that she had given to the fire this morning after she had cooked for him.

"Why not?" He asked. He had this small hint of curiosity that rose in his stomach, perhaps made out of the flow of the conversation, or the desire to pry upon whatever was connected to Garen Crownguard.

She took a short time to think. Her eyes had been away from him, fixed to the weapon upon her folded legs. "It is a more personal matter, my lord. I believe it unnecessary for us to discuss it..." Lux said.

A pause."Is it that you are protecting whatever knowledge you have over your brother, or is it that you do not believe I should care?"

Stiffness surrounded her lips. Lux would not glance up to him, occupying herself with the weapon. An uneasy silence wrapped the room.

Darius expected no answer. He watched her, quiet, assuming that she was thinking of an answer without the intention to answer. He detected the lack of trust, but, of course, that was a commonplace between any Noxian and Demacian. He might've judge himself a fool to think that she would simply tell her all she can without a drop of reluctancy pulling her away.

He let her be. A quiet passed.

Lux would have been done with his weapons if she had kept the same pace she had not long ago, but, instead, the work of her hands had gone slower. Something stirred beneath her and it placed her at a discomfort that would not allow the steel of her concentration to return. Darius watched on, silent.

Lux would not look up. "My lord... it is that my brother would be displeased if I... share information concerning him."

"Hm," Darius began. "He is my enemy, servant, I do not care if he is displeased. His personal life does not weigh as much as his company movements to me, so do not feel as though I am interrogating you."

Lux let her eyes up to him then returned to her hands. "Understood, my lord." Her tone weakening.

Darius rested his head upon his fist, his elbow on his right leg and his chin pressing against his knuckles. "Garen Crownguard is... a respectable opponent. His men revere him, his officers obey him, and his prowess in both tactics and combat is remarkable... It is at the least of my expectations to see that he would have a weak bond with his own sister."

Heavy air escaped her breath. There was a line of silence before she answered. "Duties, my lord. The joyful, ambitious brother I once knew found more solace and purpose in duty and country than in... family."

His brow furrowed. She had told him anyway. An indirect answer to his unattended question, it seemed, perhaps said for the sake of a need to say it... Her eyes wandered to the repetitive movements of her tarnished hands. A frown rested on the edges of her lips.

"And yet you care for him." He said, nearing a mutter. Somehow, for some reason, he thought of his own brother.

"I do, my lord. I see no wrong in caring for my own family..." She said.

Though he did not want it, the thought of them sharing something in common dawned into his mind. Unexpected as it was, he tried not to expand that thought or let be the sympathy that dared to grow between them. Darius judged it better for her servitude to remain _professional_ as it should between a servant and his master. He would not let meaningless personal matters get in the way, especially between them, Demacian and Noxian, two different people with two differing values that can never find interest in one another, he concluded.

His sudden contemplation had plunged their conversation into silence. Their topic at hand was lost to the thoughts that took over them.

Darius no longer observed his servant's hand, but rather, idly watched it. Lux in turn let the rag move back and forth on one area that was already cleansed. The matter of siblings was spoken of, and then it was left to their minds, looming over them.

"I wonder if your brother can say the same words." Darius said, a passive thought forming into voice. Even though it appeared to Darius that he was showing a concern for his servant, he knew that in truth, it was his own contemplation that was pointed to himself. There was a taste of doubt surrounding his trail of thinking. Infrequent would he think of Draven, _too_ infrequent it may had seem, and now, considering what his servant had said, there was difficulty in putting him away from his mind.

He was not too eager to think of things concerning him and his own brother. His younger brother was happy, and Darius had done what he could in the past. He saw no point in dwelling in what was already accomplished. There was no point in thinking this further.

"I too wonder, my lord." Lux said, eyes floating downwards. "To offer love yet be given nothing in return... it is difficult." She said, quickly concluding, aware that she was letting out another unasked opinion.

"Hmph," Darius began. "Perhaps it is." He said, and thus it was quiet again.

He thought of what his servant had said. It was both difficult to disagree or agree. He did not know of how to judge her statement, yet he understood. By her voice, he sensed the apparent emotional weight that she was carrying since the beginning of this day. It was there when she stared into blank empty spaces, there when she spoke with a weakened tone, and there when her actions slowed and drifted. Something billowed over his servant's mind.

"Servant, I have a question for you." He began.

"Yes, lord?"

"How do you think your... condition as of now will affect your brother?"

Her chest lifted as she let in a sudden breath.

"I am not sure, my lord. He would be angered, perhaps. He does not take mistakes too lightly..."

Just as he wanted, he thought. The crack on the shield that is the Crownguard glory... It was a satisfying thought, yet it would not let him smile, instead, his slight, persistent frown retained, unable to move, unable to find anymore satisfaction. A twitching feeling softly stiffened beneath him, daring to twist what he wanted to feel. He looked to Lux. _A collateral..._ He thought.

It was not Garen in front of him, not Garen cleaning his weapon, bending to his orders, or put at his weakest.

"Hmph, any good commander would not take mistakes too lightly..." He said.

Silence, then she spoke. "But he is also my brother, my lord." She had glanced at him.

To that, Darius could think little of an answer. "Then it is up to both of you."

Silence came. Darius could care little for this Demacian Crownguard, yet, at times in this day he found it unavoidable to remove her from his concerns. Her presence could not be shaken away as though it was like any other servant's presence. She is a subordinate, a responsibility.

**III**

Time had passed. The first hints of the darkening blue fingers of dusk traced the beams of the afternoon light entering the only window in the room.

Far west, the sun began to lower itself at the horizon of the Conqueror's Sea.

All of Demacia could see it— from every balcony, dock, and tower— and, instead of blue, there was a retreating fiery bright orange accompanying the livid dusk as the sun promised its next return while it departed for the moon to take its place. Lux had looked to the window and thought of it for a moment, how she wished to gaze past the mountains of Valoran to see the setting sun from her Noxian captivity, and how she used to watch such a sight with her brother by the marble balconies of the palace.

The mention of her brother in her thoughts returned her to the same concern that she had just left.

It seemed that Darius was more interested over her brother than to his own servant, yet that remained questionable to herself. Speaking of Garen brought her more discomfort than she initially expected when they brought the matter of siblings to their sentences. As their conversation moved on, her own focus dwindled while her mind spawned worries and thoughts that contested with her concentration. She had wished on many times during their talk to speak out, ask a question, give an opinion to divert them away from speaking of anything to do with her family, especially her brother who possessed a righteous hatred for Darius, but yet, she could not. She hated that she had ended up telling Darius more than she should, and, even more than that, she generated her own spark of genuine hate for Darius.

_How dare he use me as a means to humiliate my own brother... my own family._ She thought. She did not need to remind herself that he was Noxian for once, for he had done it himself. _I am a means to mock my own kin..._ Darius had already given damage by having her serve him, she thought, but he would want more to extend the damage to her family, an act of personal agenda doubled as an act of war, it seemed to her, an act that would have her disowned and humiliated. She wished that she had not thought of the perfect risk of being disowned. The burden upon her mind weighed an ingot heavier.

_I am sorry, brother..._ A weak whisper beyond her breath. She watched her own eyes on the metal's reflection. It served no relief remembering that she was cleaning the weapon of Darius as he apologized to her brother in her own thoughts. Once again, she was aware of the shame she was bringing upon her family, so known for being faultless exemplars of her kingdom. She remembered days when the warm thoughts of home was an ease as she sat alone by cold, stormy nights engulfed in darkness. It was now becoming an iron on her shoulders to think of anything that had to do with Demacia, and she had wished that were not so...

She was finishing by the top end of the smaller axe head, now that their silence made it easier for Lux to focus and put action to her work. What once was a dim reflection on smooth stone now a reflection on a dark metal mirror, clearest by the blades, where her eyes watched back in a distorted image of itself. She had no want to see her face. Yet, as she tried not to watch back, the sight of her own appearance was unavoidable as there was the need to care for where her hands moved.

"That is enough, servant." Darius said.

Her previous thoughts had made her remember the unfamiliarity of the word 'servant' to her.

Lux let a glance to him, then began to wrap the used rag around the nearest tin can. There were patches of black tarnish upon her once clean hand and it smelled of the strong, metallic stench of applied polish. She shrugged. It was not as bad as blood or swamp dirt.

Darius took his axe as he stood. Lux looked up. He held the axe with both his hands, inspecting his servant's work. His eyes moved about from one part to another. He flipped the axe to its next side then inspected it as well.

"Decent." He said. "Although you will need my assistance while you maintain it for the time being. There is a drawer by the lower part of my wardrobe. Return the polishes there."

Lux did so, taking both of the cans and moving to the opposite side of his bed. She pulled one drawer out. There were cans, about ten more, unopened and, Lux assumed, containing the same cleansing solutions. To the inner sides of the drawer, there were more unused rags.

While she returned the cans, there was the sound of the bed layer being raised and the light 'thud' of the axe as it was lowered back to its resting place.

The drawer was pushed back. Lux stood and turned. Darius had closed the bed layer.

"My lord, about your armor..." She said, taking a glance at the armor stand to her right. Darius turned head to her, a brow raised. "I... I believe I can maintain it without anymore guidance."

"You are sure?" He said.

"Yes, lord." Lux said. She had taken care of bulkier, more elaborate armors in the past during her training days(horse armors even). The only difference is that his armor was of Noxian make, and, unless there was no special custom to how they maintained their own armors, she was certain that-

"It is Noxian armor. You will need to know how to clean the traditional enhanced metalwork."

_Oh_. She remembered there _is_ a special custom of maintaining such armors. They were mentioned among the lines of some of the Noxian literature that she had 'borrowed'. There was a steel treatment process that hardened the metal in place even after it was done molding but made it impossible to sharpen so that it cannot be done for weapons. It involved a technique that only Noxian blacksmiths knew and protected. No one else can replicate Noxian armor. It was little wonder why they were only briefly mentioned in Noxian literature.

She had caught herself reluctant to be lectured by Darius once again. Lux was not sure if she had wanted to evade another maintenance lesson out of the want to not waste time or because she did not want to be in another position to be in a sudden conversation with Darius that would inevitably involve topics that disturbed her.

She looked to the armor stand.

There was his armor, of thick gray plated steel, hanging by an alloywood armor stand, its separate parts attached to their respective places on the armor stand's limbs with their belted leather straps hanging like brown flat vines, and, there was his cloak of crimson, wrapped around the neck of the stand, ending a foot away from the ground.

Looking at the armor already implied its heaviness to Lux. Its pauldrons were large, as if rounded spiked shields on ones shoulders that could be used to ram into a person, and, in place of bruises; deep bleeding wounds. The cuirass was large, bulky, its chest area pointing outwards like a war frigate's front, alloyed metal sloped and designed strategically to not only block and absorb shock, but also to glance off any blade and arrow that may thrust to the steel. The arm guards were shaped similarly, curved and such, but, unlike typical full armor, the arm guards did not extend to the joints, as to show some bare vulnerable skin, or, in a Noxian's perspective, respectable battle-scarred arm muscles.

The lower parts of the armor were fully guarded though, with the joints having their own protection, and the thigh plates like small spiked tower shields. Why were Noxians attracted to spikes? She wondered. Even their armors can cut someone. It reminded her of Prince Jarvan's armor, perhaps the only Demacian she could think of whose armor carried sharp spines.

"Is there a certain way to clean this armor, my lord?" Lux asked, though for a moment felt like an idiot for asking. _Of course there is_. Perhaps she wanted her master to elaborate.

"Yes, there is, that is why you need to be taught." Darius said, voice unimpressed. "It uses a separate polish that lubricates the plates which helps in cleaning the armor and deflecting blades. Putting too much can corrode the special metal." He looked to his armor.

"My apologies, my lord. I assumed it would be maintained like Demacian armor..."

"Hmph, understandable." He said. "Anyone who reveals the craft of our armaments has his tongue cut and fed to him."

Disturbing, she thought it, but it was perhaps a suitable punishment in the eyes of any Noxian, as their metalwork was prized and effective in the war. It would be a disadvantage if the enemy could duplicate their works and use it against them. She remembered Demacian soldiers salvaging Noxian armors, removing their rivets, and segmenting them along with their own Demacian armors to reinforce them. Not that Demacian metalwork was inferior, she thought, but that Noxian metalwork was worthy of a respect. It was reasonable that their craft was guarded so strictly.

"Tomorrow, we will begin with the armor." Darius turned for the door. "As for my weapon's maintenance, you will need my assistance if I ever I ask you to care for it. The armor on the other hand, I believe you can make do by yourself."

"Yes, my lord." Lux said. Armor plates were definitely lighter than man-sized axes, she deemed.

"Come now, servant." He said as he moved on to the door. "Clean your hands. It's time for you to cook our dinner."

**III**

The light of a leaving sun was departing with it. The beams of dusk blue hinted the blackness of night, the blue fading away. Outside, lamp boys began to do their work, lit sticks on their hands, lighting the oil street lanterns. There were traces of orange on the windows near the front door of the house, glows of the street lamp's fire upon the daybreak on the glossed glass.

After Lux had washed her hands of the metal filth, Darius had instructed her to begin lighting the oil lamps indoors. A simple task, she had taken small metal oil lamps from the lower compartment of the kitchen's cupboard. She had placed one oil lamp on top of the cupboard and one at the small table beside the front door. All were alight, like candle flames inside containers of glass and metal. The fiery lights faintly embraced the interior of the first floor. They would last long enough to light the coming darkness.

When she was finished, Lux began with the preparation for dinner.

She had repeated the same process of cooking, first with starting the cooking fire, then to adding oil and ingredients. Sweat no longer coated her skin, she noticed. The air around her had stopped warming, and was now at a standstill between heat and cold. The fire's warmth was now more of a comfort than it was the other times of the day; a mark to the chill of the Noxian night, and it was approaching, companion to the darkness.

As he waited for the meal, Darius sat opposite to her by the cooking fire. To the fire, his eyes stayed, deep in his own thoughts that Lux could not guess. Perhaps it was of his own schedule, what he would do by tomorrow, or, more uncomfortably, what he planned to do with her. She did not let herself go further with that thinking. She took a moment to check on the pot. It was still unready.

"Servant, there is a small alcove underneath the stairwell." Darius said. "There is unused parchment, quill and ink stored inside it, as well as a small table. When you are to teach me to write, you can use these materials."

She thought, perhaps, he had said that to remind her. Only now did she remember that she was to teach him.

"Yes, lord." She said, after she had glanced to him. Lux herself was not sure if she was eager or reluctant. This morning, she had this sort of strange excitement knowing that she was to teach someone how to write, but then, there was now some reluctancy to it. How embarrassing would it be if Darius, a scourge to her land, knew how to write because of her, a supposed exemplar to her people. That thought crossed her mind and so the contesting feelings of reluctancy and eagerness merged into uncertainty.

Lux tried not to think about it. There was an evening meal to cook and it required focus if it were to be cooked right.

There was silence. She had added a little bit more spice into the pot, and, after stirring for a moment with the wooden spoon, poured in a splash of butter. The light smell of creamy butter and the hot aroma of spices filled the smoke. The combination was good, she deemed it, then she sat by, hugging her knees, waiting for the food to properly cook.

Won't Darius have something else to do? She had asked herself. He was only sitting by, idle and maybe even observing her. She had expected a general to be more busy as he was nearest to the top of the chain command. Perhaps, he only made himself busy with his own thoughts. To be fair, even the Demacian officers she had come by were no longer very active, save for the Dauntless Vanguard's own officers, where her brother was Captain. They were assigned to training new reserves, but even that isn't so active.

Time went on, there was only silence. A thought crossed her mind.

"What will happen by tomorrow, my lord?" She asked, curious.

Darius looked to her. "Tomorrow, by midsun, we will visit the Tylme river, that is if there would be nothing... urgent."

Her mouth opened, yet it closed. She was near to letting out a question. It was a stiffening thought, uncomfortable even. To bathe with a Noxian... It merited no more attention.

"And, perhaps, after or before that I will head to the High Command." He said. "You will accompany me."

There was something unlikeable to what he had said. The High Command would be filled with nobles and high-ranking officers, and, knowing Katarina, they just might be noted of her recent capture under the female commander's name. She would have to walk by with people noticing her as she goes about with Darius. Other than that, she would have to see Swain again. Perhaps that would be the time she would be most comfortable not to stray from Darius's presence, she believed.

Hopefully, tomorrow would be as uneventful as today.

**III**

They had begun to eat. Darius no longer spared a compliment, but instead had shown it by not presenting any distaste.

Lux still felt eating with her hands to be uncomfortable, even after she had washed her hands. The wet feeling of oil upon her fingers, the slipping of the many soft and hard ingredients as she closed her fingers to pick the food, and putting the mess of food into her mouth, they were things that she was not accustomed to. Even in the field, she would have her own utensils, or, if that was not possible, would at least eat the food upon a stick. Yet, she ate. Perhaps one day she would not feel this discomfort as she ate, Lux thought.

As they ate, they were silent. Lux had left herself to her own thoughts. There was not too much to speak of now since Lux had known of all that she is to do. There was nothing to inform her of.

"Servant, when were you born?" He said, yet he looked to his food. It broke the quiet.

A strange question, she had thought it. She let herself chew then swallow before speaking. "1st of Summer, my lord..."

"Hm, I see... They say that the season in which you are born determines the nature of your magic. Is that true?"

It was quite sudden of him to ask something like that, Lux judged it, yet her interest to answer questions alighted at this moment. "No, my lord. The choice of magical nature is entirely the mage's decision."

"Interesting..." He said. "I do not know much of the arcane."

"Why do you ask, my lord?"

"Some mages in the command attribute magic to the seasons. I was born in the 43rd of Fall, and they say I may have an affinity to healing magic. I did not know if they were serious. Good to have it clarified"

Her lips let a smirk grow. It seemed that there were ignorant minds in the arcane here in Noxus.

"But I do not have plans in learning the arcane." He said. "Much less healing magic. You do know how to heal, servant?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Hm, it is unfortunate that you are silenced for the time being, yet it is appropriate."

Lux could agree, only that being 'appropriate' is something she did not want to hear. It made her, for a time, aware of the muffled mana that she could not call. It was as if this overflowing energy that her body wanted so badly to exert could not be unleashed, the want to be exhausted but being unable to move...

"It gives me a thought." Darius said. "How good are you with the blade, servant?"

"Less than decent, my lord." She said, finding it difficult to admit that she was terrible at the art of the sword. "I know little on how to fight with a blade."

Darius raised a brow. "I will keep that in mind." He took a handful of his food then bit in. There was something hidden that she sensed in how short his response was. Perhaps he took comfort in knowing that she had no way to fend for herself. She had hoped that was not the case.

**III**

They had finished eating. There was a large pot of water near the cooking fire and inside there was water with some alcohol content to help preserve it. Darius had once instructed Lux not to drink too much or it would put her in the likeness of Swain the night before. They drank and Lux continued on with the normal routine of cleaning the pots and cups that they have used.

Darius went to the main room. The sound of a door creaking open, the thudding of wood, and then the door closing back; after so, there was the light tapping of feet upon the stairs that could be heard in the kitchen, going up, a pause, then back down. There was another sound of wood knocking against each other, then after five of those sounds, there was the sharp spark of flame that she could hear.

Lux completed the pots, washed her hands, then continued on to the main room.

At the hearth, Darius sat behind this small, rectangular table, which he probably used when there were was more than one visitor in his household. It was no higher than his folded legs as he sat, and upon the wooden surface of the table, there were sheets of parchment slightly spread out, an inkwell on the right hand side, and a brown quill beside the inkwell. By the left side of the table's surface, there was her sack, opened. The bright vermillion glow of the living fireplace encompassed the hearth. It provided light for the parchment and warmth for the creeping cold of the night.

A tinge of eagerness reached her, although that was removed when Darius turned his head to Lux. His eyes watched back to her, a softer feeling to the touch of his normally hardened look.

There was a bout of quiet before he spoke. "I need to know how to write, servant" He said, then moved to his right, making space for her. "I am ready to be taught."

Lux let a breath, doubtful of sitting anywhere near this man. She paused, then went on beside him. She sat, folding her legs, then straightening out loose strands of hair as she thought of how to begin. There was a lack of comfort when she had sat beside him, and she tried not to let her right shoulder touch his left.

She looked to her sack. It was still bloated with the books that she had taken from the Main Archives. Lux let her hand in and felt for any book. She had a hold on one and pulled it out, then, she placed it on the left side of the parchment.

She glanced at Darius, who looked down upon the book. His eyes were anticipating, and his carved face glowed with the orange of the fireplace.

It was going to be a long session.

**III**

Darius waited for her to speak, to begin with her teaching, yet he had to ask. "What book is this?" As he said, Lux opened the book. He read it: _The Forbidden Peace between Two Kingdoms_

He wondered why she had to pick that book, although it did seem that she wasn't picking any book in particular as she took from the sack. Her fingers began to flip to a few pages. He decided not to question it.

Darius looked up to her, unsure of how his servant was to teach him. The orange of the hearth fire illuminated the fair skin of her face, and it granted a faint shine to what little blonde hair it touched. Her eyes appeared dreamy as she moved from one page to another at a relaxed pace, her lips open unconsciously.

Her hands began to move. Darius returned his eyes to the table, observing her hand as it moved to take the owl feather quill. Her fingers held it, shifting it into a comfortable position, then dipping it to the inkwell. The feather's tip was soaked in black liquid. She moved on to the parchment, writing down characters. First, there was the 'A' of the Common Voice, the capital form, then the smaller form, traced in her cursive handwriting apparently of royal quality with its rightward slant and thin strokes. It did not take long for Darius to know that she was writing down all the characters of the Common Voice's alphabet.

He watched silent as she wrote down each letter, pausing only to dip more ink to the quill's tip. Not long, she was done and the entire parchment had all the letters of the Common Voice lined and with eight letters each row.

"My lord, there are twenty six letters in this alphabet." She began. Darius listened. "First, there is 'A', then there is 'B' an so on..." She moved the parchment to the right, revealing another blank parchment. "Each letter is made by quick strokes of the quill, although for now, it is alright to write them slowly."

She began to write the first letter.

"The letter 'A' is made with three strokes." She demonstrated it upon the blank parchment, a stroke upward diagonally, then downward, then the cross at the middle, connecting those two strokes. "This is the capital form of 'A' and there is the small form." She wrote it so, a lightly pointed loop with a tail of a stroke to its right. She wrote slowly for Darius to observe.

"I see..." He said. It did not look too difficult. It was only a few brushes of the hand.

"Here, my lord, try writing the capital 'A'." She handed the quill to him. Darius looked at it, unsure. He took the quill by its neck. As soon as Lux let go, his fingers fumbled with the quill, unable to hold it properly with its thin neck and large fingers that placed too much force. Shortly after, the quill rolled off of his fingers then fell to the parchment, a small blot of ink to one corner of the sheet.

"My apologies." He said. On one side of Lux's lips, there was the tight mixture of a smirk and a frown. She picked up the quill, her fingers agile in putting back to writing position in one motion. She smoothed the feather with her other hand.

"My lord, do not hold it too tightly. Your fingers must be relaxed." She said. "See?" She tilted the quill for Darius to see the placement of her fingers. "Your thumb holds the grip of the other two in place." Lux then offered it to him again, gesturing with a light nod to him. Darius let his hand out once again, careful and relaxed as she had said.

He let his first and second fingers grip on to the quill's neck. Lux's fingers had not moved, holding it in place as his grip came, their skins touching. Lux let her fingers away, her own grip upon the quill weakening. The quill began to shake, shivering as if cold in Darius's grip. Then he placed his thumb, putting it in place. He did not know why it was so hard to hold this damned feather with his relaxed fingers without shaking.

Darius moved his hand, letting it down the parchment whilst trying not to drop the quill. He had accomplished more than two seconds without dropping the feather, and soon, the tip of the quill was upon the parchment, although the quill still slightly shook, his fingers still unfamiliar with this grip. He found a tinge of a subtle embarrassment. His servant watched him, the smirk that dared to grow now born upon a side of her lips.

He let his hand draw the first stroke, but it was difficult, for his stroke was slow and the lines became wavy with all the shaking and added pressure. The quill made a sound as it was pressed against the paper and moved so tightly. The hairs of the feathers wrinkled nearest to where his fingers gripped. He stiffened his mouth as he tried to make these simple lines to make a simple letter. This frustration hardened his grip, the lines of the second stroke becoming less formed than the first. His hand moved on to start the final stroke, his fingers even tighter, anticipating the end of this blasted character.

A soft grip arrived to his writing hand, a smooth light palm to the thick skin of his hand. The sudden touch of Lux's fingers on the back of his right hand stopped his next line. "My lord, your grip is too tight..." She said. For a moment, there was a sudden stiffness that overtook his entire hand, then, it all relaxed, the shaking faded. Darius let out a heavy breath, not expecting his own servant to be guiding him hands-on. He glanced to her. Her eyes watched her hand, still and focused.

He could not shake the thought of his mother whenever he saw her. It had prolonged his glance. She seemed to glow brighter than the hearth fire...

Darius removed his eyes from her, then back to his own hand.

She moved his hand to the blank space next to his failed attempt at a letter 'A'. He let her guide him though he was reluctant. Perhaps this is what she felt as he guided her as she cleaned his weapon, a silent vengeance it maybe. Still, he had allowed her hand to take his and move on to create the first stroke.

It was a straighter line now, though thick, more decent. "You just have to balance being too relaxed and too stiff..." She said as they moved on to the second stroke. His hand followed through, gentle pulls and pushes as she moved him, like a child assisted by an adult.

"Then..." She moved his hand to the left of the character, then let out the last stroke, connecting the two other lines. "You connect them." She said, then looking to him. Darius watched back to her, their eyes meeting. For a moment, there was a small smile on her face, and a lips absent of a frown on his. Then, her expression melted and the brightness of her eyes lost as they had glanced to her hand that still stayed with his hand. The awkwardness cracked into him.

She pulled away, the soft palm leaving his hand.

His writing hand no longer shook. On the parchment, there was the newly formed character like a crude copy of Lux's example of an 'A' on the other parchment. The image of her hand upon his now free hand was a ghost in his sight. He wished that would not happen again, or at least, not so often.

"Thank you." He said. Lux paused, as if thinking of what he had said, then she nodded lightly.

Darius continued on by his own, his grip stabilizing, his hand becoming familiar with every drawn stroke, and with Lux watching him, silent.

He drew more copies of the capital 'A', slightly unaligned and crude, yet an accomplishment since he had learned how to write this one letter, his very first letter with the quill. Little by little it seemed, with every new letter, it felt easier. He had only to duplicate each letter now.

But he understood that this was the first of many characters. He would not learn all in a day, yet he was determined.

The lines of 'A's that he had written reached the middle of the parchment. "My lord, that is enough for now." Lux said and Darius stopped when he had finished the last letter. "Next, we begin with the small 'a'" She pointed to the example letter, then they moved on to that letter and Darius had to make do with new strokes and the first loop that he had to write. The loop had been rectangular at first and he had great difficulty writing the tail end of the small 'a', but with further practice, he drew his first little 'a', and this time, without her direct guidance.

Darius went on with the same process of repeating each letter so that his hands would become more and more familiar with every stroke. Lux had asked him to write the pair of the small and capital 'A' on another parchment. Darius had made a small note in his mind to buy more parchment and more ink, or perhaps a new quill...

**III**

The cold of Noxus's night bit into the air. Though only nearing to the cold of the southern Freljord in the summer, it compelled the need to wear a coat or be in the warm embrace of a fire.

The hot glow of the hearth flame caressed her eyes. Darius continued on with writing 'A's line by line. She had let herself drift away from her concentration in teaching him. There was already the tinges of exhaustion cutting beneath her eyes. Perhaps it had been made by her work all day, or the relaxing combination of a chilling cold behind her and a warm fire in front of her accompanied by this quiet all around them. Lux tried to fight, forcing her eyes to open, focusing on Darius's work, but the covers of her eyes would not agree with her, falling like weights that she could not bear.

She had looked to the fireplace, observing the great flame, watching every cackling orange spark as they launched up, surpassing the iron hearth fence, then fading into the air. She did not want to fall asleep now at the presence of Darius, but then a yawn came, her mouth opened wide, covered by her hand and with no sound. He had not laid a finger on her when she slept once, but yet she did not allow herself. She kept open her eyes, no matter how heavy... But it was not easy.

Lux had rested her head on her left hand, the elbow on the table. Her head as if a rock hanging to its side, and her eyes kept open by the painless sting of the fire's aura. Darius had paid her little attention, determined at his own work, unable to notice that she was at the edge of dozing, at the edge of having her head fall on the table with a bang.

And that happened.

A thud on the table. The inkwell's content's vibrated and a stray stroke shot up the first stroke of his next capital 'A'. Darius looked to her, his sleeping servant, her eyes softly shut, her head on the opened book that they were supposed to use as a reference. Her chest rose with every relaxed breath, her hands lay upon the table, as if they crawled and slowed until they finally stopped.

He let a sigh out.

It was well near to midnight as the muffled crowds outside no longer sounded. There was only the sudden sparks of the hearth and the quiet roar of the fire that filled the silence of the night. Darius had became aware of the time and it was time that they rest.

He let his quill down. He stood then went behind her. After so, he pulled her from her shoulders, went to one side, then straightened her folded legs, then let hands below her neck and knees.

Darius pushed a small breath in and then stood, carrying Lux in his arms who was conveniently no heavier than his axe. As he had lifted her up, he let himself look to her. His left hand held her head, her face pointing towards him, still asleep, eyes shut and in another place, and mouth slightly open. She was dreaming maybe, of home, of family, of some hero... She was warm in his hands, relaxed, the slightest of movement being the rise and fall of her breathing. Her appearance was as fragile as thin glass when she was awake, but now, when asleep, it was as fragile and delicate as the first dew of the newest shoot in spring.

Those were strange thoughts, he noticed, perhaps caused by his drowsiness and the tiny lick of preserving alcohol in the water he had drank. He had looked away.

He moved on to the stairwell, leaving the fiery glows of the first floor and then into the darkness of the second floor's unlit corridor.

Darius turned right, where a door was. He let his left hand out, supporting Lux's head with his wrist for the moment, then pressed the door handle and pushed open the door.

He entered, wood grunting, not closing the door afterwards.

The room was faintly lit by moonlight coming from the one window of this room. It offered the faintest silver glow that allowed his eyes to collect enough light and adjust to the darkness. And, after a moment, he spotted the bed.

Darius moved to its side, Lux in his arms, aligning her so that he can lay her down.

He let her to the bed, putting her down carefully as to not wake her. The back of her head met the pillow. She had left the support of his hands.

Her body shifted to its side, her own hands clasped in front of her mouth, and her head bowed down.

He moved on to the wardrobe, opened it, then took something from its lower compartment. He returned to Lux. He let a blanket cover her, although not up to her shoulders.

Darius stood and looked to her for a moment. There was something so strange to this Crownguard, other than being very unlike a Crownguard... It connected to what his brother had asked him this afternoon.

He stood there for a time, faceless thoughts swirling beneath his head, the question of his brother unable to leave.

He let one look back at her, the sleeping Demacian. "Hm." He sounded.

He had taken enough time here. Darius headed for the door. There would be much to do tomorrow.

The wood creaked, then the door shut behind him.

* * *

AN: Woooo, sorry if this is sorta late. I've been busy with study and all so yeah.

Anyways, looks like it's another sort of... sweet moment? Oh well. By the next chapters or so, more characters would be introduced and days may go by faster.

So uh, yep, the story is officially at a novel's length (40,000 words+)! Wow, we're getting far! All thanks to you guys who followed through with me, you are all awesome people.

* * *

Thank you again to those wonderful people who really stay tuned and appreciate this story. I really really appreciate your feedback and, as I've said, I'm as eager as you guys to see where this story goes.

So, thank you for reading this chapter. Favorite, follow, or review, whatever you want. No flames, criticism is welcomed.

See you around!


	9. Awake

**Chapter Eight: Awake**

The cold of the air like claws in the wind... The pale of the moon could not reach past the gray of the clouds merged with the black of the night... The ground hard beneath her bare feet... The sharp rasps of her breathing hissed in her ear... Whispers, there were whispers, all around her, though it was silent, there were whispers, inside her, scratching at the walls of her skull, violently caressing her sense of sound...

All around her, past her breaths, louder than her breaths, the whispers drowned the blackness that she could only see. No thought could rise from her mind. The confusion struck her, held onto her head, and silenced the panic that throbbed in her chest. There were no thoughts, no screams, only the whispers.

Silence.

The whispers ceased. Her panic washed away. A long breath escaped her, then, as it went, her breathing was once again quiet.

Luxnna's eyes opened. In front of her, a dead forest. The wind blew against her side, howling, calling... No leaves danced to the push of the wind. The branches only stood still in the night, thin , black arms reaching into the darkness of the forest floor. To each of her side, dense lines of dead trees, but ahead of her, beginning from her feet, a path clearing to a figure of azure.

It was no bigger than her thumb. Her eyes lay open to it, a blue glow that pierced through the darkness that surrounded her. It was enticing, whispering in hushes. One foot forward and she began walking, the dry soil like coal beneath her feet. She walked. She dared not look around her.

Only one thought rested and drove her, and it was the thought of the azure, glowing and pulling... The ground cracked beneath her feet and cold air clouded through her lips. The chill of the forest accompanied her, holding the emptiness of her palms, embracing her fair skin. The wind blew to her side once again, her fine locks of gold flowing to one side of her face. She paid the cold and the wind no attention. She walked and walked, slowly, slowly...

A knife of a feeling cut in her stomach. It was a sickening realization, a thought that clenched harder than the chill.

She was being watched.

Behind the trees, through the blackness of the night's veil... The corners of her eyes were littered with faces. The sides of every tree were lined with peeking eyes and gripping fingers. The wind came upon her once again. Though there was fear, there was calm, and she walked through the fear that crawled behind her. The light of azure was nearing, so close and so perfect... It was all that mattered now. It was the bright in the night of black. It was the only place to follow.

Her footsteps were alone, but as the light fell upon her skin, more footfalls emerged, padded feet, limping bodies... She would not look back. The cold filled her lungs and it spiked through every beat of her heart. They were following her. No words came. Behind her, cattle herding to a shepherd...

It was all in front of her now, a great portal of pure blue light... It embraced her eyes and met her body with the comfort of heat.

She halted.

It was beautiful. There was beauty to that blue light... A precious beauty that Luxanna knew and was deprived of... She wanted to enter.

But what of those behind her?

She glanced, turning her head. The glance became an exchange of stares.

Men, women, eyes of void, empty sockets, their skins black to the dead forest, their mouths opened, torn open, screaming silently forever... More than fifty pairs of empty eyes met with her eyes of sky... Their weak, thin arms hung down their sides, their fingers nothing but bone filmed with ashen flesh. They stared at her. They did not move. She did not move.

A drop of sweat had born even through the cold. It traced down her temple, then to the dry ground.

She turned away from them. The azure was calling, Never mind them.

Lux let her feet inside. A feeling of lukewarm water engulfed her feet. It was warm, so warm...

She pulled herself inside, her hands, then her whole body... The warmth of the blue encompassed every part of her, vanishing the cold that had been clutching her.

She entered. They were left behind.

**III**

The cold of night no longer followed her inside.

The floor was of dry, dusted gray marble. She turned her head up as she took more steps inside. Above her, a carved concave ceiling with arches like spines of a great beast. The walls were of stone in the same condition as the marble floors, the cut stones that made them; cracked. She could feel the very age of this place beneath her feet, colliding with the dry floor, every foot step echoing all around her, echoing into an ancient silence.

There were pews, dusts layering the aged wood. Though they were old, they were all aligned, as if left ready for another ceremony. Webs grew on every corner, yet there were no vermin creeping about to make company for this place, no life to break the stillness that breathed into the air.

Her head turned to each side, her eyes traveling from one corner to another as she moved on to the center aisle. This curious place struck her. The make of this place... neither Noxian nor Demacian.

There was the azure again.

A glow against her face, creeping up to her eyes, a heat upon their edges like sunlight. She turned to the brightness of the azure, to where it came from.

Her skin softened to a caressing warmth . Her eyes broke away from their aimless wandering.

The deep azure was a fire, a fire of both comfort and power. It swirled in place, surrounded by runic stones, a great pit spewing forth a pillar that danced at the mere touch of the tender wind on a feather's fall. As the flame moved, the heat upon her face moved, the lulling sway of the fire a finger that ran circles through her cheeks. Underneath Lux's chest, her breaths trembled. Her fists had clenched and her mouth lay open, tasting the warm air that surrounded the blue fire.

She came towards it, a slow step at a time, and with every step, her hand rose, wanting to touch as one would want to touch the canvas of an immaculate painting. A rush of cold clenched inside her. She knew the fire. She knew what it was.

_Mana..._

Her fingers, near, so _near_. Her feet were quickening; her breaths would not rest. The azure upon her eyes, the azure she had been deprived of, the azure that was her freedom, her magic, her _birthright_, swirling, dancing, seducing her into a slow-gripping insanity. One touch was enough, enough for her to indulge in its power, the great force and harmony that she called upon deep into her very own blood...

Inches away, just _inches _away... The power glowed on her fingertips, encasing them in heat, urging them onward. The flame was release, release from the silent torment. It was time to shatter the quiet.

"You need this, don't you, child?." A voice. It stopped her. Her mind snapped back into place. Her fingers stopped and her eyes had broken away from the moment of gaze. The desire left her. Her fingers would not move, stricken by a surprise. Then, she looked to her hand, how she had nearly touched this flame. She held it closer to her, holding the wrist. A tinge of shock met her mind, accompanied by fear. In this moment, the feeling of her own presence returned to her, and the presence of another visited her...

Lux turned her head up, then looked both sides and behind her. Nobody, yet there was another soul somewhere.

"Where are you?" She said, her voice answering her back in echoes. "Show yourself." She had remembered the faces, those many faces in that dark, unknown forest where their eyes were black as the arms of the dead trees. It did not feel well, knowing that she was, again, not alone.

No answer.

She walked to one side of the well, one hand gliding against the stone that enclosed them. She searched. Her head turned to the sides and corners that she could see. There was no one.

Except a throne and a corpse.

Behind the well, there was a great threshold of stairs placed like rising rippling waves. They lead to a stone throne, one armrest shattered and its dry marble feet cracked and dusted. There was an iron staff that leaned against the side of the throne. A window of blue glass rose above from the back of the throne; the moonlight that shone through it faded into the glass's color.

A corpse, draped in an old ceremonial red robe, its edges tattered, torn, lay on the throne as if a resting old doll never again touched.

Lux drew closer, still searching for whoever called. "Hello?" She said, her head turning to each side of the well, to the corners of each side of the temple. Her voice echoed past the hum of the swirling azure behind her. She took a step upon the threshold. The room was empty. She could not find the source of the voice.

She turned behind. There was the still corpse. She guessed that it was the once living body of the priest of this ancient temple.

It rose in her stomach. The same feeling as when the many eyes followed her when she had not been looking. Another step on the threshold, her head tilted as she looked at the corpse.

Scattered shreds of robe's sleeves showed the dry skin of the limbs underneath. Long, thin silver hair ran down from the edges of the headwear it wore. Each hand held on to the armrests, the fingers nothing but bone extending out of dry, skinned flesh. On the corpse's chest, a great carved shield-like ornament that hung by a thin chain over its neck. Iron lined the elaborate collar of the robe, extending out to the great metal shoulder plates on each side.

Its head hung down. A carved face, now nothing but a face of dried skin pressing against the bone of a skull.

Azure. Azure glowed a faint light from its still, lifeless eyes; it lit from it opened mouth, brightening and fading, as if... breathing.

Cold gripped her skin. A feeling in her stomach cut up to her throat then spat out of her mouth. "Hello?" She said to the corpse. No answer. Silence.

_Expecting an answer from a strange corpse..._ She thought. She let out a heavy breath and dismissed whatever it was she felt.

Lux turned back to the well. It was calling again. The swirling azure. The emptiness beneath her was rough metal scratching against her hollow veins. The dancing azure, the mana... She needed all of it.

Its head rose up. "Hello, child."

Her head whipped behind her.

She let a foot down a step. The dead eyes of the corpse lit with azure granting a same feeling of living, watching eyes. They looked to her. The corpse's body straightened from its once limp and dead hunch. The fingers on each armrest gripped tighter as it pulled for a more straightened posture. By the time it had stopped moving, its eyes beamed down upon Lux, the azure swirling underneath its eyes. A bright, chilling smoke rose out of his mouth like frozen breaths, breaths not of cold, but of the azure.

Lux lay unmoving, mouth opened. It was a living corpse, a corpse that spoke to her. A product of necromancy, forbidden arcana, presented itself on a throne. She found it difficult to speak.

"You seem to be a curious one..." Its mouth did not move as it spoke. It was a voice that resonated from within it, every word commanded by the living corpse's power. A distant voice of a once living man echoing out through a dead shell.

She stuttered for a moment. "Who are you?" She said.

"I am Karthus." He said. "And you are?"

The name came familiar to her, though she could not recall. "I am... Anna."

"Anna... I possess a hundred 'Anna's in my choir... Such a common and simple name."

_Choir?_ It left a puzzled mark in her mind. Yet it did not matter. "Where am I? Why am I here" She said, then taking a short moment to look around her.

"You are in a temple. It matters not where exactly." Karthus said. "You are experiencing a phenomenon that occurs when one's mana is silenced as you sleep..."

A short quiet. The lack of a expression, unblinking eyes, gave an uneasy feeling beneath her. "Would you... please explain more? What is happening to me?"

A pause, then an answer. "You have slept while in a prolonged period of silence. The mana that you cannot call is attempting to drain itself through arcane communication."

She had never learned of this... Not even in her studies in the University of Magic, or of all the books she had read... She could only listen with raised brows and uncertain eyes. No sane mage would subject himself to silence then sleep. It seemed as if a failed experiment bound to occur. Yet here she was.

"You will find that your body attempts to mingle with your mana once in a while when you are not using it... This is so that the mana flow is regulated and kept balanced... But if you cannot exert the energy, your body will find a way. Since silence cannot manifest while you are asleep and since astral communication is one of the very few forms that can be done while in slumber, your body is casting this very spell as a way of regulating your mana.

The moments where she wanted to light the cooking fire with basic fire magic and clean the kitchen with telekinisis but found no answer to the call for her powers... That was her body attempting to use mana... It became clear to her. Those mornings where she would cast harmless spells, play with them when she was alone, or practice them near-endlessly; they were all part of a natural function.

"So this is not a dream?"

"It is and it is not. Your body is else where but your presence is here." Karthus said.

"But why you? Astral communication is selective, is it not? So my purpose here is to speak to you."

"It is because I am at a source overflowing with mana. Your body wants to find the closest active well of mana so that the silence can be cleansed away. It is guiding you here."

A strange thought. She had never thought that the arcane ability was _that_ involuntary. It was more than just an extension of her... _Another spirit underneath me, _that is what all mages described it. Now she knew its truth.

"Wait, if it is guiding me here... There would be a purpose, something that it is trying to stop if it wants to cease the silence upon me..." Lux said.

He spoke with an invisible smile bending his words. "Indeed... It is trying to prevent something, and it grows with time."

Her chest steadily rose. "What would that be?"

"Difference. Change. Disruption causes chaos, and chaos causes change, and change causes... more disruption..."

"What do you mean?"

"Your mana will adapt to your condition... It will find a way... Like... _life..._" The last word was spat with a gritting contempt. "Slowly, my child, a change of melody to another when one would not notice it..."

"I do not understand." She said. "What exactly do you mean?"

"Side-effects. You are not the first silenced soul to come here."

To this, her brows shifted.

Karthus spoke. "They came again and again... First, they were as curious as you were, but with every visit, they came back different, more changed, more torn away from composure. Then came the point that they no longer resembled what they first were. Insanity wrought by hopelessness... hopelessness wrought by insanity... Poor miserable quiet souls... Mouths wide open but no sound to sing, empty eyes that gazed only into darkness..."

The forest... Those who came behind and followed... "They were..." She said.

"Yes, tormented by silence when they were to live a life of song. If only I could bring them to my choir so that they may sing yet again, but their bodies are not here... They live a life so cursed that death would be an even greater relief... A shame I could not take them."

"Who were they? Did they have names?" She said.

"Strange names that I've never heard of: Vaira Wyrmaer, Joshe Raimves, Eddus Muner, Jess Prastis, Alianne Santor, and so much more... Yet all came from one place: a place called 'Zaun'. They were kept in chains, locked away from any sort of mana, given the food of silence, isolated in a cold room of silence, separate from one another, alone in darkness and... silence. Light only came from when they were taken out to metal beds, where hands of sharpened steel sank into their flesh. Then, came metal instruments, reaching and carving into them. Numbness kept them from screaming. They can only scream in their heads. The numbness was the pain."

_Zaunite experiments..._ The pills... The anti-magic... The thoughts flashed in her mind and left a cutting feeling underneath her stomach.

"Perhaps, you may not return the same..." Karthus said. "You would succumb too. You would confess as they have done to me. All they wished they could have been and they could have done... Better fathers, better mothers, wiser choices, greater achievements, greater lives... They said onto me. When their mouths were limp from all the concoctions, they could no longer speak, and thus, could no longer confess. They stopped returning, stopped hoping."

Hollowed fingers scratched the edges of her chest. "I will not become one of them."

"Hm. None have said that before..." The corpse said. "Then something else awaits you as I've said. So long as the silence is steady, there will be disruption. It will be slow."

"I still do not understand. I have never learned of this." She did not do so well with the corpse's cryptic messages.

"You will as time goes. Mana is a wave of the tide..."

"Mana is a wave of the tide..." She remembered this. Words of a past teacher, words from a book. She spoke with him, a woman's voice along a lifeless echo.

"It is ever-shifting and forever moving. It flows with calm or fury. Only when there is no more sea, will the tide halt, will mana cease."

Then, after they had recited together, Karthus spoke. "Your tide has not yet halted. The waves will take form"

Those were the only words that could describe the nature of mana. This corpse, this _Karthus_, seemed to her that he knew more of the arcane craft than she ever knew. Another spark of curiosity burned. "Wait, who exactly are you? How do you know so much of the arcane nature? How can you explain all of what I do not know?"

His echoing voice yet again, blended with a smile. "I am a prophet, my dear. I have pursued the noble art of death far longer than any other. As I practiced it, I knew more of the workings of mana."

"You are a necromancer. A lich..." Her tone tried not to show fear.

A chuckle from dry, closed lips sounded. "More than that. So much more. I am the servant of death everlasting. I have transcended from feeble life and embraced death. It is bliss... I am the great conductor of the orchestra of death, a Deathsinger..."

His presence could not grow even more unsettling. She could sense the joy of every word that introduced him as the azure that glowed within him shimmered brighter. Her foot was so near to taking a step back."Why death?" She could only say.

"There are things we love and had loved. The difference is where we have found worth." He said. "It is in this art that I've found purpose. Perhaps you should attempt it, child."

"No, thank you and I am not a child." She said. "I wish only to awaken now, but, to be honest, I find that speaking to you is intriguing, though it may be... disturbing."

"Hm. You truly are a new soul." Karthus said.

"Why are you here anyway? Why are you seated upon that throne?"

"You never seem to be short of questions. That is interesting." He said. "I am resting. This temple is my home. This throne is where I rest."

"So that is why you are not moving..."

His hand rose, the fingers closing for a moment. "Yes, but it does not hurt to move so often." He placed an elbow on the armrest then let a dry cheek against his hand, head leaning against it. The entire action was a macabre sight to Lux. A moving corpse, now watching at her like a living man listening to her, though the only difference is with the mouth being wide open and glowing blue. Physical discomfort was nothing to a living corpse.

"What has happened to this place?" She said. Her eyes moved about, seeing every broken, dusted, and aging part of this place in quick glances.

"Worn out, abandoned... It was only fitting that I stayed here since it is quiet... And that many souls rest about here. I feel at home." He said, his voice mellowing.

"Does it not feel lonely?" She said.

"I never needed company. When you have been alone for so long, you no longer start to mind. Besides, my art has kept me satisfied. I need not the presence of another soul."

"My aunt once told me that, those who have mastered solitude no longer care for this world."

"Hm. Your aunt could not be anymore correct..." Karthus said.

"Perhaps you should try giving this world hope." Lux said. "And maybe you won't have to be alone."

A rising hiss came from him, like a distorted sighing. "I will not hope for something that has never given me hope. I will not care for what does not care for me. What is left for me is my art and my own purpose."

"You do not care..." Lux said, soft, hoping that an argument would not arise.

"There is no other greater truth, Anna." Karthus replied.

"That is what you choose to believe...You do not wish to try because you do not care..." She said. Every word softened her voice. Unwise it would be if she were to provoke the lich.

There was no answer. The azure of his eyes and mouth glowed ambient.

"I am sorry to have-"

"It is fine, Anna." Only now did Lux realized that he had been calling her by the name she had given. "I see only curiosity in your essence. You remind me of when I was young and foolish, full of questions over the arcane and death..."

A relieving tinge washed over her.

He spoke once again. "Let not your drive to discover disappear, but also never let it lead you astray."

"I will... keep that in mind, Karthus." She said.

"I sense the end of our meeting drawing closer. It has been interesting to have spoken with you."

"I believe I could say the same." She said with a tone of uncertainty. His appearance remained unsettling but his words were, strangely, intriguing.

A bright blue crept along the surface in front of her until it had cast her shadow. Luxanna looked back to the well. The azure had been glowing brighter. Its bluish hue had brightened to a pure white at its center. She turned back to the resting lich.

"Must we say goodbye now?"

"Yes. I bid you farewell, Anna. Our short-lived meeting will be become nothing but fragmented memories once you awaken. Try your best not to forget them."

Lux had smiled a small, unsure smile. "I will try. Farewell, Karthus." The azure had whitened the entire temple, roaring as it danced and swirled with increasing vigor. Her shadow was a figure of black, slowly engulfed by light until there was nothing.

White encompassed her, a warm touch upon her skin accompanying it. As it had come upon her vision, the last that she had seen of the lich faded, his azure submitting to the great light. She swore she saw a smile carve upon his dry, ancient lips before she was lost to the light.

Exhaustion reached her. Weight grew upon her eyes. The black of her eyelids flushed away the shining white of the azure.

The heat that embraced her had faded in the instant.

There was now only heat upon her eyes. Sunlight.

**III**

It caressed the edges of her eyes.

Every part of her felt dry and sweaty at the same time. The familiar touch of the sun came from the window, coming down upon her like golden beams from the window, arriving to her face. The sound of an active street just outside muffled through the walls.

Lux let her eyes open. The room is illuminated by the sunlight, slightly heated by it as well. It took a moment of wonder for her to remember how she had fallen asleep and why she had fallen asleep so easily.

A feeling of aching hunger gripped her stomach and dryness covered the walls of her mouth. She stretched, relaxation forming from the exhausted muscles that had been rigid all night. Then, she rose up. As she did so, the edges of a blanket slid down from her stomach. It was messed and ruffled from her constant movements as she slept.

She let her hands hold the blanket.

She looked at it. A moment's thought was all that was needed for her to finally recall. She had slept when she had been teaching Darius. She could recall clearly the lulling warmth of the flame and the heaviness that her head pressed against her hand. And now that she was in her room, it was clear that Darius had woken her up while she was half-asleep and asked her to head upstairs.

_But why a blanket?_ She had wondered.

Piece by piece, the lack of intelligence in her waking thoughts left.

_No, no... I couldn't have... That means he..._ He had carried her upstairs and had taken the time to cover her with a blanket.

Baffling.

Lux pushed the blanket away and got up from the bed. Her feet thudded against the wood as she landed up and stood straight. She had for a second hoped that he had not gone farther than carry her to bed. But seeing that none of her was uncovered, she was safe. She wiped her eyes then blinked them off their dry stiffness. Her vision cleared out. Something had caught her look. It was on the bed. She went closer.

A single piece of black hair. Darius's hair. She was right.

She took it and let her eyes examine it. A small detail she had caught, no different from when she had spotted her own lost hairs when she would sleep on her own bed in Demacia.

He never seemed to stop straying away from what she would expect of a Noxian general. Kindness, hospitality, to a Demacian? It was becoming too strange, too outrageous that a question was bound to have left her lips.

The heat of the sun cupped the side of her right cheek.

She looked to the window. Beams of shimmering yellow light piercing through the glass. The bottom of her chest succumbed to a slow, gripping feeling. It reminded her too much of her magic, the magic that she was born with... She sighed and returned to the single line of black hair. She was still in Noxus. Her fingers let go of the hair, letting it fall to the floor. Too tiny to be noticeable anyway.

She turned herself to the window, where the light entered. Her right hand lifted up, all fingers pointed to the light, hoping to see that simple trick of changing the beams' direction. She concentrated. Her hand lay still. The light remained unmoved. No magic escaped. No matter how much she called or commanded, there was no answer. The light did not will itself to her, when once it had been her greatest ally. It was pointless. The silence caged the arcane. The silence caged her. Useless.

Another sigh. She did not know how long she could last remaining this way.

To the very back of head, remembering the silence and arcane also caused a hint of familiarity to arise. As if in a dream, it was near yet seemed so far away. Something wasn't quite as it should be in her memories.

She put herself away from the thought of not being able to call upon her mana. It was a sharp thought that grazed her slowly. Besides, there was a newly undone bed to fix, a lighter, more forgiving thought to put her mind to.

**III**

Thick deciduous trees surrounded each side of a dirt road. The natural silence that was the forest's calm whispered softly to anyone's ears. The sky above, blue and cloudy, a tender wind descending from it to sway the green leaves of the forest, and the sun high enough to radiate itself throughout all Runeterra. Mountains rise from the distance, and, from above, a great bird circles, calling, perhaps, for its few companions.

Sounds of four horseshoes clopping approach. A single-horse carriage drives on by the dirt road, bumping upwards every time its four wheels happened to roll over a large rock or piece of wood. A large fake treasure chest that was the owner's logo spun from a loose rotating rod that turned with the roughness of the path. The driver, a man wearing a fashionable green merchant's outfit, sat by the outside front seat of the carriage where he could hold the reins of the horse. The carriage had glossed windows of dark blue on each side, the wood of it lined with green painted metal.

A watchtower of stone— as if a joint tower in a castle's walls— with a single fire beacon upon its tip awaits ahead by the dirt road. The green banner of Noxus hang to its front, facing the opposite territory. Barricades of sharpened wood surround its perimeter, guarded by armed men in gray armor, wielding axes and war cleavers. They move about the perimeter, morning routines active as they had awakened from their tents.

The carriage approaches the checkpoint. Two men: a tall, heavy-built man whose large helmet hid most of his face, and a slightly shorter man who did not wear a helmet to reveal his cropped brown hair and hardened somewhat pale face. Both wore the same armors. Both carried weapons of Noxian-make.

"Whoa..." The driver said as he pulled the reins. The horse responded, huffing then stopping its movement. The two men approached the carriage and stood by. "Finnius, we're at the checkpoint!" He shouted with a somewhat hoarse voice, head sided to the carriage.

"Await!" It came muffled from the carriage. "Await! I shall be out shortly!" The driver looked to the two Noxian men, who returned with stiff, awaiting stares.

The carriage door opened, and out came a legs with brown leather shoes, then a man wearing a green coat with a buttoned red undergarment. He was a man of a good amount of age, a well-tended whitening beard, and a stomach that rounded just a bit from his undercoat. A circular merchant's hat hung to one side of his head as he moved out.

He approached the men and stopped two strides away from them. "Greetings, good sirs, I am Finnius Larhee of Noxus." He bowed gently with a smile then tipped his merchant's hat, the hanging red silk fluttering to the small movement. "I am not too known of as a-"

"Save your breath. State your business." Said the taller man, whose deep voice interrupted with force.

To his interruption, Finnius's mouth stiffened before he continued on speaking.

"I have returned from the local villages among the Demacian territories, and I am returning to Noxus. I am a jeweler, so I do not bring any wagons with me, but rather, special security." He turned to his driver, then winked at him. He tipped his hat to the guards with a nod.

Finnius returned to the guards. "Please give me a moment as I present to you my seal of citizenry." He reached into his coat pocket and brought out a piece of old folded paper. "Here we are..." He gave it to the shorter guard, who took it with some haste.

The guard took a moment to unfold then read it. He looked to his fellow guard and spoke with a less loud voice, just at the edge of the merchant's earshot. "It's valid." Then, he looked to Finnius, and handed him the paper which he took.

"Ah, very good! May I pass now?" He said, his smile widening.

"Not yet. Those who have returned from Demacian territories are subject to special inspections before passing through." The taller guard said. He moved along with the other guard, not giving out another word as they passed by the merchant to begin inspecting the carriage.

"Well, go ahead! I shall be waiting here." He said, obliging them to go on with a hand pointing to his carriage. "I assure you there is nothing there! Not even Demacian dust!" The guards gave him no glance.

The bird above called again, the force and tone of its cry changing. The merchant looked up to the sky. That was the signal. A bead of sweat traveled by his neck. He remained silent for the entire duration and so did his driver, which only sat and waited, as the guards went on to do their job. Finnius's eyes would not leave the underside of the carriage.

Unbeknownst to the guards, something was indeed hidden.

A lady, geared in light armor, hang still underneath. Her hands gripped onto the carriage's special handles affixed to its underside, her hands clenching and her feet pushing hard against the handles. Armored boots sounded. She had heard Valor's signal, a rather distressed call, that they were beginning to inspect the carriage.

A pair of boots walked by each side of her. They stopped for a moment, facing towards the carriage. Her sweat was wet against her skin. One pair of boots took longer before it moved. She expected to the man to peek down.

"I'll check the inside! You go inspect the two!" The man with a large voice said. The other pair of boots walked away.

"No problem! You can see that there is nothing on me!" She could hear Finnius. "And please don't be too forceful with my driver. He's a bit more sensitive than I am." A smile rose from those words.

The carriage rocked above her as an armored man entered. She hung tight to the handles. The sweat on her palms was slipping her grip, but it only hardened her fists. Her breaths hushed hard to be quiet and her chest rose steadily despite the amount of exertion she was now doing. Loose brown hairs soaked with sweat hung down from all sides of her face. She could feel every step of the man, hear every sound of him rummaging through the jeweler's items. The smell of dry dirt below her and a horse's stench filled her nose.

"And please do not take anything! I will know!" She heard from Finnius.

The slight push of his steel boots on the wooden floor of the carriage was a light press on her back. Quinn gritted her teeth. She had to endure. A mission always required endurance. What she had to do now was nothing to all that she had done. It was the only reminder that calmed her right now. She could trust Valor. She just had to wait.

Soon enough, the man exited, the carriage rocking once again. Quinn gripped tighter onto the handles as to not slip and fall. That would be the end of her, unarmed and vulnerable in Noxian territory. It was because she was unseen that she was still living.

The weight above her was finally gone. She could breathe slightly more easily now.

"He's clean!" Shouted the man who had just exited the carriage. The boots moved on. Relief came upon her. Then the boots stopped, facing the carriage.

Valor could sense it; the hesitation in that man. From the skies, he gave the signal, another bird call. It was the important one. Too late or too early and it is all finished. Quinn held her breath.

The man leaned down, holding on to the carriage as he took a peek below.

"Oy!" The man yelled. "Are you done dealing with the two?" He said.

"Not yet!" The other man replied. "Anything there?"

"All clean." The guard said, then he let himself back up. Valor called once again.

Quickly, Quinn returned back under the carriage, crawling back under and holding onto the sweat-soaked handles once again. She had nearly slipped as she stepped on the foot sockets, but a forceful push held her still once again. That was close. Valor's signal came just in time for her to let go and stay behind the carriage, unseen. Her heart hit the walls of her chest, and to relax, she took deep, silent breaths.

"See! Nothing! Now, please, we will be on our way. Jewels don't sell themselves you know!" Finnius said.

"Clear. Let him pass." Commanded the taller man.

"Thank you! Only four days away from Noxus, three days if we're lucky! Hah hah!" He boomed. "Good day to you gentlemen!" His leather shoes came into her view. Not long, the carriage creaked as Finnius went back up. The reins were slapped with a 'hyah!' and the horse was driven forward inside the checkpoint. More armored boots walked by on each side that she could see. She was in the hands of luck and that she was thankful for.

"Forever strong, good soldiers, forever strong!" Finnius said to all those who passed by before closing the carriage door.

Quinn shut her eyes and let in one more good breath. She had made it. _Thanks Valor, _A silent mutter from her smiling lips.

* * *

AN: SOORRYYY FOR THE WAIT!

There was just too many damn things going on at the same time back here! But, as I've said, I've been working on this when time bids it! So here we are!

Well, this chapter is a sort of beginning to something that will grow overtime. Sorry for not having any Darius-Lux interaction here, but the few chapters will be full of them. And yep, slooowwwmance.

So why Karthus? Why not Xerath or someone/something else? Well, I don't know. He correlates with something about Lux. That, good readers, is for you to find out.

And uh, I noticed that my Yas-Diana story is getting some amount of enthusiasm. I might be working on it soon to transform into a full-fledged story. I think it will be next after I finish this story then I'll work on a fic involving Ekko and another fic involving Braum. Yep, I've got plans!

THANK YOU AGAIN to those who waited and stay tuned! If not for you lovely people, this would not be the top rated Darius-Lux story! We're coming a long damn way, and its all thanks to you guys! Thank you so much to all those who faved, reviewed, and followed! I feel great knowing you guys feel great reading this even though there are some long waits and irregular updates(meh heh)! I appreciate all your feedback and I am so grateful for all you guys!

I'll see you guys soon! Fave, follow, or review if it's alright with ya, constructive criticism is aaallright, no flames! If there's anything wrong, I'm all ears to hear it and improve on it!

Thank you!


	10. The Keep

**Chapter Nine: The Keep**

Luxanna had fixed the bed and folded the blanket by the bedside if she would ever need it again. Thoughts the night before began to linger in her mind. All she had remembered was the fireplace, the vermillion glow, its hot aura, and the sparks that came with a crack as they jumped aimlessly out the fireplace's steel guard. After it, was only a great urge to close her eyes and rest. Peculiar of her, she thought, as she had never slept with her elbow on a table. To sit behind a table usually meant that she was part of something, and that is something she could not just slumber on, especially not beside a Noxian.

That was not to think of right now. Lux sighed and went on to fix whatever little detail she could fix in her room, from the folds of the bed sheet, to her items in the closet, and to her own clothes. Her reconnaissance gear still hung inside the large closet, with the boots stowed away to the side. Her eyes stayed on the boots. She remembered a certain item.

She leaned, picked up the right boot, and checked its back side. It was not there. She had a slight hope that it was. It was ripped out of its socket as it should have. Her last resort, a straight edged dagger, was now a ghost in her sight as she traced its empty space. She placed it back beside the left boot. She sighed. It seems that the hope of escape grew farther and farther.

Lux had closed the closet doors. She turned back to her bed, but as she did so, she had caught the sight of herself by the vanity mirror. She walked to its front.

Her face met its reflection. Blue eyes watched back, brightened to the sunlight, glistening back at her. She always smiled at the sight of herself along the sunlight, that she had awakened to a beautiful day back in her... _Home..._ The vibrancy of her smile fainted, retreating the edges of her lips, the light of her eyes fading. It was only a smile she did at home. All the more did it weaken when the natural urge to call for her own housemaids and that butler, Bavis, stopped in her throat. _No longer in Demacia.._. It had been a phrase that repeated in her head since she had first stepped into the streets of Noxus, disguised in a shawl. It rang too differently in Darius's words.

It had to leave her head. These thoughts of Demacia and her room.

Loose strands of her hair escaped the thin band that held her ponytail in place, hanging down her temples then past her chin. A simple tie of her hair... She had never seen herself with it for more than a day, and only now did she realize it. Lux sighed. Her hair was too much a mess. She had to let loose the string— her hair falling down her face suit— pull her hair up once again, then look for a comb.

She searched the vanity's drawers. And there, she found a more suitable elastic tying string to tie her hair, and even an old wooden comb. Apart from them, there were a pincushion with needles stuck inside, rolls of fabric, and small square handkerchiefs. Her brows lowered at the sight of these items, then to the vanity, to the closet, then to the whole room. Why did Darius need another room if he lived alone? For guests? She wondered. Darius did not seem to be one to have guests to sleep in his house.

It was best not to ask, she presumed. Perhaps another time when it is most appropriate.

She continued on to grooming herself, combing from the sides of her hair, held in place by her other hand.

As she pulled the comb up and let it down to her hair, footsteps thudded and the door opened. Lux turned her head to the door and there Darius entered, his used tunic hanging by his naked shoulder. The grip of morning remained in his eyes and sweat filming his fair skin gleamed faintly to the sunlight from the nearest window. The sight of him almost shocked her, since he had not knocked.

"Did I surprise you?" The morning dryness creaked through his frowned tone, absent of any greeting.

Her eyes met his with a moment's confusion. A stutter nearly came through her words. "No, my lord."

He looked to the window, to the closet, then to her bed. She noticed that he was wary of something. When he seemed to be assured, he looked back to her.

"Cook our breakfast and be swift. We have to leave again today."

Lux nodded. Their looks broke and Darius left the room.

She returned to the mirror and to combing her hair. Lux had noticed it now. He was checking if the room had changed, if she had attempted escape. Perhaps, she thought, she had surprised Darius more than he surprised her when he saw that not a single thing was scratched.

**III**

Lux had come downstairs as Darius was nearing the end of his morning exercise routine. The table the night before was nowhere to be found.

She had cooked breakfast with a shirtless Darius watching her half-way through. It felt almost as if it was yesterday, only that this time, they did not speak to each other.

Darius was remembering that night, that action and thought out-of-place that marked it. She was his servant, a subordinate. He looked to her, that air of concentration covering her face, her eyes— glowing to the bright orange of the cooking fire—unmoving to the task at hand. She was Demacian, yet she was still obligation, and he could not forget, the means of humiliation to her brother. She was Demacian, and he was a Noxian, and that did not leave both of them.

She had finished cooking and they ate. Still, the silence went on, and none seemed to be discomforted by it. Darius had nothing to say, and had been busying himself with his own concerns for the rest of the day.

Lux had been quiet. Too quiet. Darius let his eyes up to her, past the dying cooking fire. She was silent as she ate, her head bowing down. He had let his eyes stay.

Strange Demacian. He had never thought of a Crownguard to follow him with little objection. She acted unlike her people yet still carried their aura that differed them from the Noxians. He knew she thought the same to him. He wanted to question it, but he pulled back his words. They were not important. It was for another time. There was no need to dwell on that anymore. He had other things to have in his mind, and so, Darius let his eyes away.

"I don't understand." She began. He returned his look to her. "Why?" She looked up to him, his eyes already there to meet hers. The cooking fire, now a small ember, cracked its sparks as it faded into ash.

There was quiet. Darius did not respond.

"Am I not a prisoner, my lord? Aren't I a means to bring shame to my family, to my brother?"

His brows lowered. "Are you doubting it?"

"Is it not hard to? This food, these clothes, this shelter, this security... my lord, are you not a Noxian and am I not a Demacian? If there is something to be done to me, why do you prolong it?"

"You risk asking me such question. Do you trust me not to harm you for it?" A faint smile rose from him.

Her head backed and her lips clenched. "And will you harm me for it, my lord?"

His mouth opened, his reply almost instant, but nothing came out. And thus, their expressions switched for one moment. Darius let his eyes away back to his food pot and continued on.

"I do not have to explain my motives to you." Her expression retreated as he returned a look to her. "And you do not have to question them."

It came silently, and when she had pulled in a light sigh along with her drifting eyes, he knew she had understood.

"I apologize, my lord." She said, words almost under her breath. Darius paid it no attention.

**III**

They ate the rest of the breakfast in silence with only the dying flame to weakly interrupt the quiet. The flame had turned to ash when they were done eating.

Darius placed his empty pot beside him and then stood. "Wash quickly." He said before leaving the kitchen.

Lux puffed. It seems her master isn't one to explain. Never mind that, she thought, the Noxians were not ones to explain everything anyway. She stood up and began work with the used pots. She took both of them and sat by the wooden water bucket near a drain by the kitchen corner.

Then it came to her again, a numb fire wanting to push out of her hands, wanting to manipulate and get the task done tenfold faster. It would always be there, she imagined, there to frustrate her, to remind her of silence. Katarina said she would have to take those experimental anti-magic capsules regularly, but who is going to administer it? Could she possibly fake the swallowing? She remembered the weight of Katarina's knees upon her chest and forceful push of her hand.

There was little hope for what she had in mind. She pushed it away, that thought of having her magic back. She would have no way to defend herself or last inside and outside of Noxus without it. While she had no way to have her magic back, there was only one thing that could guarantee her security. She huffed at that thought.

_Darius. _

Her safety clung at a Noxian's will, along with everything else. She had fallen into the same bitter conclusion that ran unspoken the day before: She had to obey if she wanted to be unharmed.

The water was wet on the skin of her hands, the palms gripping the edge of a clay pot. She shook her head away from her thinking. '_I might as well finish this if I want to stay untouched' _she thought with an uneven smile.

When she had finished cleaning the pots, Luxanna walked to exit the kitchen, but stopped when she had almost bumped into Darius, now wearing a short-sleeved tunic no simpler than the one he wore yesterday. Lux took a step back and tried not to let his eyes meet hers.

"Change your clothes and wear your boots." Darius said. "We will be going to the High Command."

Her brows tightened at the order. It surprised her. "My lord, I don't think I should change."

"We will be going to the Tylme soon after. Unless you wish to wear the same dirty clothes, you would have to change."

Her chest clenched. She remembered now, and as she did, she had glanced up to him. It was as if what had strike her didn't so much as touch him. "I see... Excuse me, my lord." She moved on past him.

"Be swift." Darius said as she went on upstairs. There was no reply. And when the confusion of her eyes finally struck him, the edge of his constant frown lit into an unnoticed smirk.

**III**

Darius sat by the stool near the fireplace, and he took the time to wear hide boots which he had tucked the ends of his leggings inside. The stairs thudded, and Darius looked up. Luxanna had changed from a green tunic to a sleeveless beige one of the same fabric as the last. Her loose leggings were tucked inside her own boots, heavy yet fitting.

Darius stood. He was finished preparing and his servant appeared the same. Even her hair had been fixed as to not appear with loose ends.

She had arrived to the floor, standing by the first step, awaiting for his word. To Darius, she had appeared too far away from an average servant, even farther from when he had first saw her. It was as if looking at someone new, someone different. That Demacian spy, that Crownguard in full gear, now dressed closer to a Noxian lower-class.

The lines of her figure and her appearance, delicate and with youth, had not left. What was first a brief scan of her attire, had began a growing stare to her entirety. He was becoming aware of it.

"Is something wrong, my lord?"

Darius met her eyes. Though she had dressed and dressed differently, they had kept that same Demacian gleam. "Anna. Don't forget."

There was a moment's pause. "Yes, my lord."

His look had not left, and when the quiet had gone by too long, she had glanced up to him, wondering. He wanted to say something, but it could not form, and the words were lost to the bottom of his throat. Never mind it.

Darius opened the door, and the light and noises of the outside had entered. "Come," he said "and stay close." He stepped outside, and Lux followed, closing the door behind her.

**III**

Noxian middle-class walked about, children playing by in mock battles, carriages with creaking wheels and horses that clopped their hooves against the cobblestone. Noxian women with their faces behind their large fans spoke and gossiped. Armed guards could be seen here and there, some patrolling with mounted officers, others staying still by the now unlit street lamps. The sunlight had blued the sky, and heated and yellowed all that was not in the shadow of the Noxian houses. Conversations flew about the morning air, sometimes filled with laughter of men and children, and giggles of women.

They had began to walk, and Lux stayed close enough to Darius, beside him yet slightly behind. Her boots were heavy on the street stone and her eyes wandered about looking at others. She would catch some looking back at them, others whispering to one another as they looked to her and Darius. Some had eyes that widened in a clear surprise, others had playful malice beneath them. It was no different from yesterday, and she guessed that she would have to begin tolerating all of it each moment that she would _have to _accompany him.

No matter how many times she would walk by these streets, she knew that her presence remained a stranger to them, like an acquaintance with only his name to be known and nothing else. These Noxians, lively, boastful and full of energy, were not her people, and these buildings did not glimmer in the sun's brilliance. Though she knew the streets perfectly, she would feel lost somehow. But, with these new clothes, this new tie of her hair, and this tall, Noxian general beside her, something about it all began to shift.

She looked around her, to the houses, to the people, the guards, and the street itself. She had always walked with careful footsteps by them knowing well that she was a Demacian in disguise. But with her bare face showing and with no magic to mask any of her, the scene had changed before her. She was no longer merely among them. She was living in their culture, the culture of her enemy, the same one that she had read about time and again. It was something she had to become used to: to be seen and heard in this city.

As they moved on street by street, she could feel the land beneath them incline and rise, pointing upwards, and when they had turned to the next street, she was standing by the end of a way that began to slant up. Sidewalks rose into stairs and the houses were built taller and thinner. She knew of this street, and she had taken it in many different ways and guises.

She looked upward, the tall houses no longer obstructing her view. There, above them to a distance, stood the black walls and great bridging spires of the High Command, its cut granite stones carved from the very base of the Great Skull, clinging to the skull's crown. At its very top, a great citadel by the sky with its towers pointing and overlooking all of the land: the Raven's Keep, where she had been brought after her capture. She could faintly hear one call, a shrill, loud, and screeching Dire Raven's call echoing out far away.

"Servant," Darius had turned head to her. She had not noticed that her pace had slowed. With a nod of his head towards the road, she understood and followed.

All the carriages seemed to come here, she noticed. Normally, one or two carriages would be seen by some streets in the districts below the Great Skull, but near the High District, they would be common with others even appearing to be convoys. Three passed by them, all of different makes and horses, with their Noxian guards escorting each side

Ahead, there waited one of the many checkpoints that secured passage to each district. The checkpoint stood, a thick stone wall with steel reinforcements from its base up to its parapets. By its center, an opened iron gate; on each side of it, there were covered battlements atop square-shaped stone towers with each having entrances underneath them that served for individual passage; people entered the district through the right entrance, and exited it through the left. The dark-green Noxian banners hung from each tower garrisoned by armed Noxians. The carriages stopped one by one to be inspected, and Lux and Darius moved on to the right sidewalk.

They approached the right-side entrance, two guards like clothed metal sculptures on each side of the gateway. "Stay close." Darius said before they came nearer. Luxanna gave an unnoticed light nod as she looked up to the green Noxian banner above the entrance before looking down in front of her.

Two crooked poleaxe blades cross one another at the entrance, held firm by the guards in uniform half-armor with dark-green surcoats. They were Elites, veterans of the field, their faces black under the shadows of their helmet visors. She had read of them and their military culture. Though they were more experienced with some even owning houses in the High District, the lowly duty of guard work reminded them that rank would never mean an ease of discomfort.

Darius stopped by the elites, and, in unison, they uncrossed their weapons, holding them close to their sides, and raised their free fists to their chest, almost as if beating them. Their heads snapped towards Darius. "Forever strong!" They said, voices hoarse and hardened by shouting.

Darius returned their gesture at the same snap. "Never weak." He let his arm down and the soldiers did the same.

A grip to her wrist. Luxanna nearly gasped in the sudden warmth and clutch of Darius's hand. She turned her head up to him. He was looking ahead, as if nothing had been done. His pace quickened, and Lux walked faster to keep up. She kept beside him, passing by the guards who had returned to their statue-like postures. The feeling of their presence faded from her sides. They had entered, going through a dark interior.

A step outside into the light. Darius had let go of her wrist.

A great boulevard inclined upwards as it rose higher into the steepness of the Great Skull. As they walked out, Luxanna glanced to her left past the stone fences that guarded the cliffside. Her eyes stayed. A glance became a gaze into the far horizon. The lush farmlands of varying crops blanketed the nearby city outskirts, fading away to the forests surrounding the wetlands of Noxus. Great clear shimmering rivers veined through the area all-around, from the farmlands and villages that drew fresh water, and the blanketing forests. The rivers granted life to both the wild, the trees, and the people that lived near them.

To the very distance, where the wetlands extended out, the Howling Marsh crept, the leaves of its own trees darkening as the wetlands faded into thick marshlands. The rivers would travel out from their great mother, the Serpentine River, then through the marshes and to the surrounding lands of Noxus where they would scatter like the heads of a great hydra. And, even farther, nearing the very line of the horizon, where a part of the mountain chains that walled Runeterra stood, and between one valley, a large pass, shined a golden beam like a distant twinkling star in daylight. The glistening white marble and its gleam... Demacia. _Home_. Lux's pace slowed, the sight holding her; she wanted to stay still and watch.

"Servant," Darius's words surfaced. "Are you listening?" He had stopped and turned to look at her. Lux whipped her head to him, with eyes widening.

"Yes, my lord?"

"I urge you not to speak to others unless told. They would make mention of you and attempt to speak to you, but if you are to reply, I shall be the one to tell you. And, remain at my side unless I say otherwise."

She had not answered for one moment. Taking orders from a Noxian did not do well to transitioning from looking back at the distant image of her home and remembering it. Her eyes wandered before they stopped at Darius. She nodded. "Yes, lord."

"Good, come and stay beside me." And he turned and moved on.

Lux looked around her. These were the lower hunting grounds of her missions. These great houses to her right that clung unto the steeping cliffs of the Great Skull as it rose to its pinnacle. They extended inward into lairs of the wealthy class, where the true size of their accommodation would be revealed, and it was thus that one would marvel at the architecture that the Noxians have crafted from the very Skull. Stairs rose to each house, and from some sidewalks where one edge would be rise too sharply. All houses had great balconies, and even greater doors with their own guards that carried the sigils of each house owner on the faces of their weapons and surcoats.

And, there were the wealthy Noxians, some walking alone, others accompanied by their guards and servants, their differing perfumes cutting in the air. The ones who walked alone tend to be the younger ones; other than them, there were the servants ordered to buy or fetch something.

There were the youth in robed uniform, young Noxians studying in academies rather than playing or surviving in the streets, clumped together in groups. And there were the adults, Noxian men and women in dresses and outfits weaved from expensive light fabrics. There were the carriages and more coming in from the checkpoint from time to time. The conversations here were more hushed, quieter, and more refined but with the same Noxian spirit, yet that did not stop others to laugh and call among each other from across the boulevard. There were even some of the loud conversations that would sometimes break out. The only ones who had the truly quiet exchanges were the servants and guards on patrol.

Soon, they approached a great plateau that edged out of the Skull.

Upon it, a plaza with a statue standing upright at its center. It would be replaced time and again with every new Grand General, and thus, it was Swain in gray marble glistening in the sunlight with him standing upon a solid silver base. He held onto the head of a golden replica of his scepter with both hands, its tip pushing against the ground. His head bowed down with a thoughtful stare to all who would stand before the statue, and on his back, rose black raven wings of forged steel in luster, caught in a still figure of it stretching wide open. There was something eerie that disturbed her whenever she walks by that statue, and Luxanna had felt it again when she looked at it. Darius gave only a glance, before turning to the right of the statue.

Stores lined the side of the plaza. This very plaza replaced the common market, as every store sold a specific category of goods and each offered high-quality versions of average market goods. Servants would flock certain stores, usually the ones that sold necessities, while the rich folk went on into specialty shops, services, barbers, restaurants, and arsenal stores. A stranger feeling it was, that her existence was truly visible in this plaza.

And the amount of the wealthy residents in the higher districts were only partial.

Luxanna had read that only high-ranking officers and lifetime warriors were given a spot to claim in the higher districts, and thus, those wealthy ones that were now among here were the ones serving in the reserve force. The active ones were out in the field. In times of war, these boulevards were empty with only patrolling guards and the servants that were assigned to watch over the households to fill them. In peace— or rather, a noticeable amount of it— a rotation was made between the reserve and active forces. In doing this, every Noxian in arms sees action without having to exert full effort. All those around Luxanna were the reserves, enjoying themselves before they head out for their turn in the rotation.

The looks, the unfamiliarity of everyone to her by Darius's side, they were born at almost every eye that would catch a sight of them. Moments ago in the district before them, Darius had been ignoring them, but now, his head would turn to those who would whisper too close to them as they passed by. Luxanna can only guess what invisible words reached out from him that would cause others to fall silent.

They would pass the occasional plaza all with the same sort of statue only in different poses, through many residential sectors, and with each step higher, the residents and the residences showed more distinction in class and wealth. The carriages were more common, and the facades of the houses became more distinctive, and as Lux looked at them, she recounted the ones that she had entered without invitation. She also caught sight of the faces that she had once cloaked herself in. She smirked at the thought: she had once been in their shoes.

The walls of the High Command came closer and larger, the raven calls shriller and clearer, and as they trailed upwards the Skull, she had seen every side of the great bastion. It was waiting, a looming dark above the bright lives of the wealthy class and all those below them.

**III**

When they had done another turn, the boulevard's end revealed itself. They have arrived at the entrance.

The citadel's broad towering walls rose high, the blackened granite refusing to glow in the morning light. Armored guards stood and patrolled by every cobblestone around the walls, behind the crenellations, and inside the covered battlements and turrets. The spires of the Raven's Keep pinnacled higher than the fortress complex, and from them, came the echoing cries of the Dire Ravens that perched on wherever their talons could rest. They made their nests on the spires. The green banners of Noxus hung from every wall and building, fluttering to the weak dance of the mountain air. The heat weakened here and the winds that brought the nearing cold of the sky whispered to her skin.

There were no more other houses near the first entrance to the High Command, only an empty boulevard leading to a great reinforced alloywood gate that stretched wide open. Unlit braziers were on each side to keep the exterior guards warm at night, and it was here that the noise of the High District stilled into a quiet.

Darius and Luxanna approached the entrance.

She had been behind every wall and room of this fortress, even the ones that hollowed into the Skull, in different guises and with different objectives in mind. Her eyes wandered at the stone. She knew the secrets beneath them—at least, almost all of them. This place remained a well-known acquaintance that never became her friend, and now it greeted her again, but this time, she was not beneath the brace of a shadow or the skin of another.

**III**

They have entered a great interior, lit by the light that beamed in through tall glass windows. Sounds echoed in the halls of the High Command from unknown sources.

A clean shine covered the gray-washed floors, yet a roughness textured the walls. The room stretched on each side, large enough to hold a great gathering or even an ancient dragon in his sleep, with golden beams turning blue as it passed by the windows and columns supporting the weight of the stone. Statues of armored men stood by the walls in far intervals, and separate hallways presented themselves. Above them, farther away into the shadow of a concave ceiling, steel arcs clung to the walls, one after another. This same picture met Luxanna the times she would come here, and a strange, emptying feeling came to her when she would stay too long, perhaps caused by the glaring differences that set it apart from the brilliance of the Demacian palace.

Darius moved on, and Lux followed, steps beginning to echo as they entered further. They walked straight, heading for another large entrance at the end of this room. Lux let her head look around. There were banners hanging from the columns, and though it was not evident, there was a second floor right above them, with connecting balconies jutting out of the upper walls; there, dark figures stood by, eyes following them. Lux looked away.

With much walking this great interior, they have arrived at the next entrance.

A throne room, with the same polished floors and walls with an even greater size than that of the interior they had just walked in. She had eavesdropped many conversations here, and passed by without difficulty. Perhaps here grand assemblies could be organized, and a dragon could fly with plenty of ease inside if it were not for the columns which stretched upwards into the ceiling. The windows were larger, granting plenty of greater beams of light into the spacious room, and even some from the ceiling, shafts of light alighting the way to the center aisle which they would walk. On each side of her, standing by the columns, were armored guards, almost no different from statues. Her boots met a carpet, green and soft like fur, which lead itself to the throne. From here, she could hear a familiar cackle and voice echo out from the end of the room.

A figure clad in light, Jericho sat on a throne high-atop a threshold with guards on both the threshold's side. A black halo encircled the back rest of his throne, a blot to the beam shining down to him, its spikes jutting out like short-swords; and, above him to the wall, hung a great banner of Noxus, trimmed with a golden gleam, pointing down to its ruler. A Dire Raven perched by the side of the backrest, staring down on the visitors with its red eyes. His voice came louder to her ears as they neared, and two figures knelt as they listened to him.

"... not have to worry about them. The League of Legends only does so much, though I understand that you have taken measures to hide the nature of your research from prying eyes."

There came an inaudible reply.

"Understandable. And yes, you may go now." His head turned up, and it stayed. "Ah, Darius! Our Zaunite envoys were just leaving." A smile cut into the tone. The two figures stood as Darius and Lux neared. They turned to them. The man on the left, the one who had a bald head, wore a red coat; strangely, his arms were wrapped in white cloth. The other man, a man in violet coat, appeared older than the man next to him; he had a bowler hat.

She did not like the bald man's eyes. They carved into her chest: eyes of pure toxic green that gleamed the nauseous glow of Zaun. White cloth wrapped itself around his lower face, and a bare pale covered his skin. There stayed a difficulty in knowing his expression, as cloth covered his mouth and his eyebrows were long removed. Still, his eyes could not dissolve into the iron that was Darius's countenance which gave him a steady glare. She knew this man, spied of him long ago. His true name was forgotten, and he came with only his own name: Singed.

Singed passed by them without another word, but the man in the violet coat approached Darius. A capsule container gripped in his hand, and, looking into Darius's eyes, gave it to him. Darius looked at the item, pocketed it, and the man was gone, his head bowing down. Lux caught the glimpse of his eyes; glowing violet in the shadow of his hat. Their footsteps echoed away. There were only them, Jericho, and his Dire Raven now.

He donned a green coat, trimmed gold at its edges and by its large collar. His scepter lay beside his throne, and his eyes, calm and steady, always seemed to calculate at the thoughts beneath them. The sculpture of him at the plaza did well to capture his image, for it is here that it breathed and spoke. There were no wings though, but Lux had remembered the painting in her room, and knew well that they were hidden with only his dire raven to remind her of it.

"Well, aren't they strange people? They've always been. That's why we get along so well!" Jericho laughed, and after so, he spoke again. "So, Darius, my right hand, what have you come here for? I see your servant is alive and healthy. Good that you take care of her." He smiled.

"I wish to speak to you in private, Jericho"

An eyebrow went up before his answer came. "Hm, very well. Come, Beatrix." He said as he stood, picking up his scepter. The raven fluttered its wings as it flew to its master's shoulder. The Raven Emperor did not flinch at the sickly talons gripping onto his shoulder.

Swain went down from his threshold, heading towards a right side entrance. Darius followed him and Luxanna did so.

**III**

She followed them into numerous halls lit by the windows. Their footsteps echo, with Swain sounding a tap of his scepter as he walked on. Beatrix, the raven on his right shoulder, would make a toned-down call at times. As they moved, they conversed.

"So, what it is it that you wish to speak about?" Swain said.

"This concerns the technology that the Zaunites are presenting us."

"And what of it?"

"I wish to voice my thoughts on this matter, but only when we get there."

"You don't have to be afraid, Darius." He smiled. "Le Blanc isn't here today."

"Hmph, I'm not afraid. I'm just being sure. And it does not matter if she is here or not."

"Ah, well, fine then."

Luxanna stayed behind both of them. She found it somehow good that they did not acknowledge her existence for the mean time. She could only let herself observe the halls that they were walking in. She would catch glimpses of servants, but nothing other than that. What presented itself the most were the guards who patrolled by and by, their presence marked by their clattering gear.

They arrived at a two-door entrance. Darius stopped to look at Lux. "Stay here."

She nodded then took a step back. Two guards stood by the sides of the entrance. They opened the doors, with both of them entering, then they closed. Lux waited outside, by a wall between two windows. The guards stood motionless and silent. She leaned against the wall, hands behind her, and, as time went on, she faded downwards until she sat at the floor with her back against the stone. She sighed and bowed her head down.

A twirl of a blade cutting against the air sounded, then caught by a hand, and again it twirled, and again it was caught. This would repeat when a feminine voice spoke.

"It's boring, isn't it?"

Lux caught feet at the corner of her eye. She looked up. Katarina.

"All the time with nothing to do..." She chuckled as she twirled another blade in the air. "Why are you wasting it?"

Luxanna stood, eyes staying on her. How could she have come so near without her noticing? Her voice didn't arrive so well in her ears. The last time she had heard it, it was when she was being pushed down to the ground and fed the silence pills against her will. "I was ordered to stand by."

"Huh, something your brother would say..."

"And why are you here?"

"I'm here for you, dummy." Her eyes met Lux. Green, with a sharp razor to them under the locks of her red hair. Past the shadow of her hair, there remained her scar, trailing down her left eye. "Come with me, I'll show you something." She got off the wall, and moved on, twirling her blade still.

"But-"

"Darius told me to entertain you, so be my guest and follow me."

Lux sighed once again. She did not feel that she would get used to following Noxians.

**III**

They arrived at a wide open court.

Shadow covered the pavement on the sides of the court, fading away into sunlight at the open areas. Sand filled the open ground under the sun and the castle garrison trained in these areas, their shouts and colliding wood and blunted weapons reverberating. Around six pairs trained currently, fighting themselves in mock melee.

"_Hah! I got you!... C'mere!... Damn you!... Let's see what you've got!..._" The words echoed, amongst the cacophonous cries.

Luxanna and Katarina stayed at one corner, looking out. "Welcome to the proving grounds." She said

Luxanna stared at the demonstrations of physical might and skill, so showed by topless men sweating under the sun. "Am I going to...?"

"Yes, we'll train here. Isn't it fun? Come."

They moved on to a booth, passing by benches where some men sat to rest. Katarina approached the booth window. "Three blunted short swords, please." It arrived to her without a word, pouring down the booth hole to a wooden desk. "There we go... Go ahead, grab one."

"We're practicing... with metal?"

"Well, it's blunted. What's there to fear?"

"I'm not sure about this. I'm not well with the use of the sword."

She rolled her eyes. "And that is why I'm here to teach you. You don't need talent to practice."

_Teach me?_ Why Katarina of all the people? Then she remembered her conversation with Darius the day before: '_I know little on how to fight with a blade'... 'I will keep that in mind...'_

With a sigh, Lux took the sword. Her hand gripped at the comfort of the leather handle as the unease of the sword's weight pulled her arm down. Straight steel made the blade, with its hilt a simple strip along with a blunted pommel at the end of the handle. A practice sword made with conventional means, and it was all she would need for now. She was more accustomed to her steel baton, and she had only ever used a sword in her long ago training days and for only a very short time.

Katarina took her own blades, taking them and twirling them like toys. Such skill and showiness reminded Lux of Draven and his own axes. Katarina let a smirk stay on her face when she looked at Lux. She gestured her head towards the court, and she moved on with Lux following her.

She felt the sun come down against her scalp and her entire body. It wasn't so hot with the cold at this altitude to contest for it, yet it stung lightly.

"So, Luxanna, ever held another blade before?" Katarina moved in to the front of her, standing with both her blades pointing down. Hearing her name seemed a relief from the constant calls of 'servant'.

"Yes, once." She replied, her blade pointing up.

"Alright then. Show me your stance."

_Stance? Oh, right... _She spread her legs apart, left foot in front of her right, knees bent slightly, and weapon outward to Katarina.

She chuckled at her. "Can you balance yourself?"

Her brows tightened. "I don't know."

"Try attacking."

"How?"

"I don't know, slash left and right, imagine striking at someone you really hate."

The latter part was difficult, but it came easy as she imagined Draven's face. She slashed the blade diagonally across, the metal humming as it cut through the air and image of the arrogant Noxian. She continued on forward, slashing at different directions, the weight of the sword pulling her. At every strike, without her knowing it, her grip loosened and her feet began to fumble as she moved forward. It was inevitable that she would then trip. She let out a short scream as her balance left her to the air, and her hands stretched out in front of her to break her fall.

Her chin hit the ground, the sand escaping her. Her blade arrived to the ground with a thud. The pain was temporary, but Katarina's fluid laughter lengthened it. Luxanna pulled herself up along with her blade, dusting the sand off with her free hand. The grainy texture of fine sand covered her limbs and part of her face. It took some time to pat them off.

When Katarina stopped laughing, she finally spoke. "Your brother must be really proud."

Luxanna gave a glare. Mockery wasn't something she was so familiar with.

Just before she could reply, Katarina walked up to her. "You see, Luxanna, the blade isn't just a tool." She came behind her and held the wrist of that hand that held her blade. Her sudden touch surprised Lux. "It's an extension, a part of you. You should feel every vibration and every part of the metal like it's another hand." She moved her arm, up and down. "Do you feel it?"

"I... I guess."

"Now, Luxan— Your name is a mouthful sometimes, can I call you something else?"

It choked in her throat. "Uh, well, Anna will do."

"Anna... Nice, simple name... Right, Anna, let's get to your stance. It's very important that you don't lose balance in a fight or you're as good as dead."

"Okay, that's... nice to hear."

"So, we have to separate the legs, and they've got to be firm." Katarina let go of her for a moment and went on in front of her. "Like this." She made her stance, with her left leg pointing outward, her left arm forward and right close to her shoulder.

"It seems too open."

"That's the point, dummy. It's got to be open. We women don't waste time defending every moment a sword strike comes towards us. We're too quick for that. You've got to strike when he stretches out his arms." She thrust her right sword forward into the air, the blade cutting into empty space. "See how swift that was? "

Lux nodded her head.

"Now, copy me." She returned to her stance.

Lux mimicked it, glancing at her to see if her own stance is right. In a short while, she was able to copy her stance with the only difference being the lack of another sword.

"Why do you get two swords?" Lux said.

"Because I'm good enough for it. It takes a lot of skill to use this without screwing up, and besides, when you're in a real life situation, you'll encounter more than one blade. And you're still terrible so one is enough."

She frowned. "How frank."

"I know. So let's start the real practicing. You've got to learn the basics before you can do anything impressive."

* * *

AN: Ugh... It's been so long... I was sick and busy at the same time. Oh well, irregular updates.

So here, I've decided that there should be some sneaky stuff going about, and that Katarina and Lux won't be so much as enemies all the time. And I've got one really tense Darius-Lux scene in mind, but it will come in the future. If there seems to be a mistake, please tell me.

And thank you to those who have followed! The story's hit 100 followers. I didn't think it would get this far but you guys made it possible! It's all thanks to you!

Thank you again for your patience, and thanks a lot to those who reviewed, you guys are awesome!

Fave, follow, and review if you want to. Constructive criticism is good, flames nope. See you on the next one!


	11. Meetings and Favors

**Chapter Ten: Meetings and Favors**

The heavy wooden door shut behind them. Darius and Swain continued on into a darker room lit only by Eluminite, crystal light sources found deep under the Skull, extremely rare, reliable, and expensive. They glowed from a steel chandelier which hung from the ceiling, taking aback the black space of darkness with a faint lightning blue. The stair room that they had entered was well lit with these crystals, illuminating the rising granite stair steps wide enough for an assembly to pass by. They ascended upwards, leading to yet another door.

Their words, footsteps, and the tapping of Swain's scepter echoed here. But before another word spoken,

"A secret meeting?"

The fluid of her voice pulled away even the glassy eyes of Swain's dire raven, Beatrix. She was leaning against a wall, Katarina Du Couteau, the long red locks of her hair flowing down like liquid fire with the bow of her head which covered half of her face. _And her scar. _The dark ink of her tattoos and leather of her Command outfit refused to reflect to the eluminite glow, like the darkness had clothed and marked her toned skin. However, the dark could not blacken the custom-forged knives that circled her hips and strapped on to her thighs. Their sinister luster glistened.

A Noxian dagger was thrown up in front of her, spinning in a fast circular blur that cuts with a sound through the still air, and then caught so dexterously in a sudden stop by her naked hand, then up again, spinning, then caught again. Though she could not see her lips, Darius knew she was smiling. She made smiles whenever she had a spare blade to play with. _And a__ victim, _he thought.

She caught the dagger but did not throw it up this time. Her head turned to them. Darius was right. A smile on her face, as sharp as the dagger she toyed. And then her eyes, clear emeralds. A single scar long removed them of their shine.

"And I'm not invited?" Her smile mixed along with her voice. It mockingly tried to sound pitiful, purring if it wanted.

Swain smiled back at her. They shared a way in expressing themselves in a conversation. "Sulking the halls again, I see, Katarina. I don't assume that you were waiting for us."

"And I don't assume that I am part of what you're going to do beyond those doors. Making new secrets in a secret meeting, black bird?"

Jericho chuckled beneath his lips. But Beatrix stirred, cawing once almost like a growl, at Katarina, but Swain remained steady. "I can already tell that nothing amusing has happened to you since your lookout for any of those... troublesome assassins and the capture of the Demacian."

Katarina's smile grew. "Ravens are very smart, aren't they? Oh, and Darius... " She scanned him, beige tunic, boots and all. "Bland with your tastes again, no doubt."

Between the two, he shared no smiles. "Were you following us?"

"Quick to suspicion as usual, Darius?" She returned the dagger to its socket by her waist. "And no, for your information, I was not. Or does crossing your path while on patrol mean the work of fate?"

"And you are quicker to conclusions. I was hoping to find you on the way." Darius said, which had caused an intrigued brow to rise on Katarina's sharp-featured face.

She folded her arms against her chest and tilted her head. "So it is the work of fate." A smirked chuckle.

"Jericho," Darius turned to Swain, "if you would mind to leave us for a moment. I will not take long to speak to Katarina concerning the Crownguard."

His own brow rose, then Swain only took a second to consider. He nodded. A mark of trust. "Very well. I will go ahead. Don't keep me waiting." Darius nodded back and Swain carried on.

Darius returned to Katarina. Her expectant brow was still there, along with her smile, a keen one piercing through ghostly eluminite.

"Now, what is this about?" She said.

"My servant." His voice lowered, a growing seriousness. "Did you tell anyone else concerning her, particularly the other nobles?"

"You think I have?"

"Katarina." His tone repeated, reminding her that he wanted a direct answer.

She sneered under her breath. "I'm not _that_ boastful, you know. I haven't. But maybe I was planning to until you came along." She puffed away at a stray strand of hair.

"Good. I don't want anyone else to know that the Demacian is serving me. Not even Draven knows."

"Doesn't that eliminate the purpose of why you're keeping her in the first place? Humiliation, what Swain told me." For a moment, there was no fast answer from Darius. "Or that you are concerned for her safety?" She gave a humorous air to the last question.

"Her humiliation is only for me to enjoy. And you know that she is not the one I wish to humiliate."

"I know." An answer wrapped in a brief breath. Darius's caught her hand touching for a moment something around her neck. It was not important. She didn't seem to notice that the last question was left ignored, and Darius thought it better to stay that way. There were no instant answers for that one. If he cared only for the Demacian's humiliation, then he did not care for her safety. A part of him hoped that she would come to the same thought. But a glance back up to him betrayed that. He knew the glint of suspicion when he saw it.

"Darius." Suspecting eyes went up to him. "Something's hidden, isn't it?" He hated how her smile revived itself.

"What do you mean?" And he hated how she started to give the same eyes Draven had given him.

"I don't know. You care for this little one, don't you?"

"Get that out of your head." His tone stiffened. "I have not so much as touched her so do not even think—"

"Yeah, yeah." She rolled her eyes then shook her head at him. "I know you, Darius. You care dearly for anyone beneath you, and you kill anyone who dares threaten the welfare of your men without proper cause. That's how you lead. Unorthodox like Jericho, but effective."

Darius pushed out a heated breath. For an esteemed master of silent killing, she had quite the talking mouth. Assassins... observant as ever, and that she knew him had little doubt, for they have served Noxus for years, participated in the state's affairs, and fought in campaigns as comrades. "She is under my servitude therefore she is my responsibility. You understand that."

Still, her smile did not leave. "I do, so her safety is a priority to you, is it not?."

His voice lay stagnant. She is his responsibility. Words wanted to leave, but the truth pushed them back. If he had argued now, he would only be contradicting himself. He could not answer, and by the time Katarina noticed it— and she did quickly— it was too late. Her smile, how it grew, how he despised it now.

"Oh, Darius... What else are you hiding?" A knife-like pride swirled in her eyes and formed the curves of her smile.

"You are inquisitive." Is all he could muster.

"I'm only inquisitive if you don't trust me."

A heavy breath winded slowly in Darius, another breath of frustration. She reminded him why he did not speak so often to her or why she was so useful when she was on his side playing words against every other disagreeing officer. She was Jericho without a limit and with an almost equal want to know more.

"I care for her safety as well as I do for my warriors. Nothing more than that."

Katarina's expression lightened. A triumphant light. "Good to know."

"And, concerning that, I have a favor to ask for."

Darius rarely asked for 'favors'. A curious glow gained in her eyes. This was interesting to her, and he sensed it taking her attention.

"Getting to the point, huh? That's very uncommon to hear from you of all the Noxians. And what would that be?"

Words scrambled about in his head, his eyes staring as they flew by. There would be no other way to say it. "I want that you train her in the ways of combat."

Her head backed then tilted. "What?" Finally, a way to get back at her.

"If you have time. You suppressed her magic. She has no reliable means of defending herself."

"And no way of harming you!" She said, raising her voice for a moment, then it lowered. "Doesn't she at least know how to wield something else other than that stupid child's baton?"

"Not that I've heard from her. She had said that she is not well with the use of a sword, and I doubt that she has any idea on how to use fan-blades. A baton is not traditional here in Noxus and widely recognized in Demacia. It will attract attention."

"You're ignoring what I just said. If she knows how to fight and fight up-close, she might some day be brave enough to take her chances."

"I know that, and _you_ know me." He emphasized. It was understood. He wasn't one to be taken down so easily. Katarina had her share of memories fighting alongside Darius to prove that. And whatever he did to keep the servant in check, was beyond her. "If the time comes that she must spill blood, then she must spill it and spill it well. I will not have a subordinate following me who does not know how to protect himself and others."

"Hm." Katarina thought about it, her eyes moving in a cloud of difficult consideration. Darius's lips stiffened. She might have had better things to do. "Reasonable..." then a smile, "and fun... Wait. Why me? You've been hoping to see me just so that I—of all the others, even yourself— be the one to come up to her and teach her which end of a sword to hold?"

"Because you know what it is like to be a woman here in Noxus and," his tongue begged to hold back, "I know of no finer swordswoman in the city." The fact could not be resisted. The latter was no compliment. It was truth. But Katarina took it all the same way, giggling happily at it.

"Don't be flattering, Darius. It's not like you." Then, her eyes drifted down, thoughts searching for certainty. She put her hand to her cheek, eyes up to her pondering, and she looked back to Darius. "Fine. I'll do it. Not just for your reasons. I have my own too."

"Very well. Whatever they are, I will not mind." _If it will not change anything. _And they won't, but Darius would not know what they were at all.

"Strange. Now that I've captured her and taken away her magic, I would be the one to teach her to compensate for all of... that." The word _teach_ and _compensate for _left strange flavors in her mouth. _Train_ and _put up with_ were better words. She returned to Darius, ready to come to the important part of every deal. "But, what favor in the future have I earned for this?"

She returned that smile to him. _Pay up_, was what it read.

Only a frown met it. "Let time decide it for me." Her smirk retreated, annoyed and disappointed. "I am in debt to you."

Katarina sighed, a roll of eyes accompanying. At least this would be the first time the right-hand man of the Raven would be indebted to her, in a favor that is. "Fine then," nodding anyway. "You owe me a good one."

Then, she offered her hand with an open palm. There was no response. "Well?" Katarina shook her arm, enticing him. "Won't the Hand offer his hand?"

He shot eyes to her offer. Darius felt more to pinch the bridge of his nose than shake her hand. He had never asked for favors from her. He had reasons why he preferred her step-brother, Talon, and that was because he knew how to keep his mouth shut when needed. Now... If only he had given it as an order. But this was no matter of the state or the army. This was a matter of his personal servant. Was this kind of a gesture really necessary?

Her hand was still waiting.

"Only children do this. We salute."

"Oh? I thought friends worked with favors, not orders."

Damn her for this awkward surge, and damn her snakebite smile, he thought. A fleeting moment of hesitation struck him then... He gave in. His hand met slender fingers with a firm yet unwanting grip. The smooth skin was frostbite to his palm.

"So, deal?" Katarina said, poisonous emeralds eating away at him, the sharp scar cutting away their shine. The curving blade of her lips stung to see.

"No one else shall know of this. This is strictly—"

A roll of eyes. "Oh, just say 'deal' and be on with it."

He gave another heavy breath, then a surrendering tone to escape with it. "Deal." Then they let go. His hand felt free. The air had never felt more comfortable.

"That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

"Remember, Katarina, you'll watch over her while I am with Jericho. This means you will do this at any time while I am here in the High Command, away from her."

Her brows tightened. "So she is my responsibility now too."

"Do not let a soul know of the name of her blood or her home. Hide her true identity, and protect her. I trust you enough for that. I do not suppose this changes anything?"

Thinking arrived to Katarina. She had her own trail of hesitation. Her eyes stayed at one place, then moved back to him. Her smile came quickly with her answer.

"No, Darius, actually... Not at all."

**III**

The last of her footsteps exited away to the shut of the door. Thankfully, she did not request for anything else. There were favors that she could have asked him to fulfill, thousands of embarrassing and impossible ones, but there would always be those certain favors that he could not do even if she paid him the world in a golden chest.

Like having him dance and sing naked in the middle of the night in front of Swain's bed.

Or forcing him to reunite with his obnoxious younger brother, Draven, in the Fleshing arena for a month.

Or telling her what had happened to her father, General Du Couteau.

He left it away from his mind. There were too many secrets behind these walls; secrets even Darius could not find, rose petals and raven feathers hiding in every crevice of the ancient granite. He knew handfuls more than anyone else; most, he knew fully, some, he knew nothing of all, and even fewer, secrets that he had only the faint guesses and ideas of. Their scraps were chained to the whole, buried in the silence of lips. To him, scraps. To Katarina, clues.

He removed it from his thinking. That wasn't for now. Now was not the time.

After having spoken to Katarina and dismissing her, Darius went up the wide granite stairs leading up to two thick metal doors. On the doors were carvings of the Great Skull, a symbol of Noxus and Noxian authority, and two large handles on each center. Darius pulled, the polished metal not making a sound but the moving of air, and then he entered, the echo of his footsteps rising upon polished stone.

A cousin to the throne room, its stone walls rose high and curved inward to meet at the ceiling where they would be held together by arched metal braces. There were no eluminite crystals or torches. A great shaft of light entered through a towering glass window, scattering itself all over the dark gray walls and then directly falling upon the massive rectangular stone table upon the center of this room.

Empty ornate wooden chairs with armrests and tall backrests faced each other through the entirety of each side of the table. The head chair of this stone table, of course, was the Grand General's, which was situated at the end of the table and right in front of the great window, signifying his rank and significance as well as amplifying his presence twofold to all who were in the room. There was no chair on the other end of the table for no man in Noxus was equal in power.

The Marked Chamber.

It was where the generals, arch-mages, and grand advisers met, where they strategized the movements and workings of the Noxian army, where they discussed the future of Noxus and its citizens, and where the Grand General, Swain, decided the final say of both.

Though voices— well-familiar with the stone of the walls— would echo in this room, not a sound of their words can reach the adjacent rooms. Magic that dampened all to silence would not allow a single whisper to escape even if one may shout in rage. Every corner was visible to both Jericho and the honor guards of any general in participation. Only two doors granted entrance to this room. Other than policies and operations, men of power crafted secrets here. Darius had enough trust in this room to have deemed it more fitting than Jericho's own meeting room, where they would have had to ascend and walk even further into the Keep.

And there, seated at the end of the great table, was the Grand General himself and his raven, Beatrix.

Even from the other side of the room, he could see well the gold shine of a goblet fitted snugly in between Swain's fingers and the perching dark blot of the dire raven to the beaming sunlight. He walked on towards the other side of the room, the wood of his boot soles echoing among the stone.

Swain had noticed him when he had entered the room, and so did Beatrix. "Had a winding conversation with Katarina, haven't you?" His dry voice reverberated, heard clearly from every end of the room.

"Hmph." Darius said. "More than that, it seemed. I had her attend to my servant."

"Ah, protecting your property, I see." Swain sipped. "At least Katarina would not be as bored in her patrolling."

When he had arrived to the other end of the great table, he sat on the seat nearest to the right of Swain As he did so, he glanced on the contents of Swain's goblet. As expected, it glistened sweet ruby. Darius raised a brow. "I believe you said that you would cut down on wine."

"Only once for today. Talking to those Zaunite envoys leaves an itch in my mouth." He let a sip down into him, the taste hardening his voice slightly as he spoke next. "I had drunk too much of it one recent time, hadn't I? I could not even quite remember what happened that night."

"You were too heavily intoxicated, Swain."

There was a certain cut gem that glowed. Darius glanced at this. It attached to a socket at Swain's coat just by his right chest, a craftsman amethyst in the sea of green and gold that was his coat. Its violet crystal glowed yet not enough to shine bright, letting only a ghost of brilliance. From this gem, his eyes moved up to Swain's face, his mouth in particular, staying there for a moment. The gem glows. His face is flawless. His lips moved and Darius met Swain's eyes.

"Tell me, Darius," Swain relaxed in his chair, his back finding comfort at his own seat. The dire raven stares at the Hand. He would return at its clear avian eyes from time to time, watching him, as if another presence among them listening and observing, "How did that event with the Crownguard occur, again? I could hardly remember a minute of it." Swain smiled upon ending his sentence before covering his lips with red sweetness. Darius watched back at him after glancing at Beatrix.

"You sent a royal messenger at midnight specifically to wake me."

Swain's smile toned his voice. "Really?"

"You conveyed that there was to be a trial in your private meeting room; you did not mention who was to be in this trial, and that you would not see me at the Keep unless I wear my formal clothing. You thought that my clothing made me seem... 'tragically in need of a new sense of style'. It was then that I knew you had too much to drink."

Jericho held back a chuckle as he drank another sip. Darius's recalled without any light expression. His mouth lay still and unamused.

The Raven spoke. "Then?"

"I had arrived. There was the weeping Crownguard. I would not have known why she was there if not for Katarina, who explained what had happened. You had me put my judgment in this _trial_."

"Ah, yes, I remember that part. Afterwards, you suggested that she be serving you and I agreed."

"Correct."

"I see now... I cannot remember most of my words..." Swain let the goblet to his mouth. The taste settled in, the same one that night. After so, he continued. "Not all of the details are clear to me, and that is of little matter now. She is not that of a very significant concern as of now anyway. So, what of your servant? How is the Demacian so far?" His tone had changed in such a way that the widening of his smile had changed with it. Darius's brows only lowered.

"Fine. She does her duties well and with such... unexpected obedience... Perhaps it is because of what you had promised if she would not obey me."

"Ah, I remember... It must have been that terrible to, well... _persuade _her." Swain let out a chuckle. "You are pleased then?"

"Hmph." Darius sounded. "Not in the way you are thinking."

"And so what have you been doing to her?"

"I've tasked her for normal household work and maintenance of some of my gear for now. As well as..." A certain scene would not form into sentence; his fingers gripped to a quill with her hand to guide her. It left him. "Market duty."

The wine spins in the goblet as Swain's hand circled in place. "How unbecoming, is it not?" he said. "For a Crownguard to do such lowly work, to be silenced, to be following _you_, a hated man of her brother... It seems the you are the first to stain the shine of their _glory_.

Darius watched the spinning of Swain's goblet, the red fluid flowing in circles, cycling with his entering thoughts. "You know that it is Garen I wish to humiliate. "

"Ah, of course, yet you took his sister for his place. Well, then I expect that is a greater pleasure, no? I have mistaken that you had different intentions for her..."

Darius's shook his head, the repulsive thought leaving his mind. "No, I would not have that. Not with her." He thought that it would have followed Draven and be gone, yet even Jericho seemed to hold it. He knew their conversation had a chance to steer this way, and so he gave himself slight relief that he had decided to speak of matters in private.

"Your self-control, Darius..." Swain sipped. His hand, holding the goblet, stayed in the air. His eyes examined the gold reflection of the goblet. "I wished mine would not slip at moments. Thankfully, mine is limited to wine. One woman is all one man needs anyway." He paused, giving a thought to what he had said, then slighted a smirk. "Most of the time at least..."

All the while as Swain spoke, one point at the grand map of Runeterera gripped at Darius's eyes; a tall rectangular stone map marker with a lotus insignia carved upon it. It stood larger than most of the other pieces, equaled only by the city pieces in Valoran. Once, the lotus had been red rioted by triangular army markers all bearing the marks of two warring armies. Now, it stands alone. _Ionia_.

Swain found where Darius's eyes drifted to. Silence crept. Swain broke it. "An embarrassment, was it not? Our last major invasion... The promise of swift victory turned into catastrophe..."

"Our greatest failure."

He remembered.

The day they made that heavy decision... the words shouted among each other in the very same room that they were now seated in.

How the magic struggled to quiet the fury of political argument... a sea of markers flood the enlarged map of Ionia... the silence shattered, the granite walls shivered, and the points of fingers fell upon like volleys of arrows towards each general and adviser; it mattered not who you pointed or shouted at for it was bound to offend anyone. Darius and Swain had watched them, waiting for them to finish, and when they would not stop, they too joined the pointing and shouting. A threat usually was enough to shut a few mouths, but once they came into agreement, all came to quiet and all listened, their unified thoughts shepherded by the will of Swain.

Another memory. Darius had stood beside Swain upon a great field. For every blade of a grass, there were helmeted warriors, banners, and armored horsemen. They stood in great formations, line after line, the sunlight shining forth the luster of their steel helmets and the war banners fluttering to the morning breeze.

The Raven Emperor gave them words, raising their spirits to the extent of his crafted sentences and reminding them of the glory of conquest. The men met the pinnacles of Swain's speech with cheer and the waving of their weapons. More than a thousand shields and blades clattering, the sound enough to overpower the rush of a great tide.

When the Raven had finished, he outstretched his arms at his final words, and with his arms, lifted the weapons of every soldier, all of them shouting in a wave of voices that surged throughout the winded plains. Banners of Noxus hoisted up, and a great cry was uttered by every man, a great _united_ cry. Valoran knew once again the fear of hearing the cry of Noxus, of hearing 'Forever strong!' tremble the mountains and sunder the skies.

Then, leaving Noxus, Darius watched the fleets, a phalanx of barges like black spears into a calm sea, ripping through bright peaceful waters, an island of vibrant colors in the distance...

They landed. Sand and water reddened. The war began.

On a cliff, he stood. Smokes of fire mixed and rose along with the sickly clouds of toxic gas, marring the hues of the once flourishing fields of wheat, flower, and fruit. Gray covered all that was not fuming in black, engulfed in putrid green, or splattered with crimson. The sky never appeared so diseased, so hellish. One whispers 'life,' and, from every corner, there answered the roar of violence and the hush of death. Valleys and countrysides burned and suffocated, screams and coughs echoing as fires smoldered and bodies collapsed. Then, the lands darkened away into the ash and charcoal, a quiet following the whistling drift of the dead wind. The stenches that did not kill fought in one's nostrils.

This was a new type of war. The effects of the Zaunite weapons scattered among villages and fields, rivers and wells, among warriors, Noxian and Ionian. One was lucky to have his body retrieved. Those unfortunate remained on the killing ground, spread out upon the ashen plains and barren soil, their gears littered among them, and their once glorious banners torn and fallen, colors lost to the ash and blood. Other bodies did not have gear or had once followed banners. Some wore clothes, some carried dolls rather than flags. Dried blood paints like a rusty red tide surrounding the corpses. The crows that have waited for their feast came, then flew away, terrified of the chemical stench that violated the rot. The bodies were left uneaten, decaying.

Death. Suffering. They roamed everywhere, restless wraiths. Where was the glory?

Swain broke him away.

"This is the cause for your distrust to the Zaunites, is it not?" He said. "Their technology now is better than it was before... Yet, it is undeniable that it has caused us the heaviest loss in the past. You understand why I permitted that disaster to occur, and I would not have done it if I had known that it would cause only a swifter defeat and the League's... instantaneous intervention."

Now they have arrived to the topic that he had wanted to speak of.

It took a moment before he could pull himself away from his thinking."You know I hold a great distrust for their technology. They seek to make every aspect of Noxus easier. That is not in our culture."

Swain nodded. "You may say that... When we first launched the Zaunite machines, you and I personally saw their destructive power. We both knew that the war would end quickly with their continued use... Yet, it did not seem to be that way..."

"I strongly advised against it, Swain. It was unwise to use a weapon that we have never seen before, especially among our men." Darius's eyes did not move as it returned to memories. "My men did not find glory in slaying the battered and crippled... And they too would fall victim."

They did not notice it. A quiet from that past formed in their voices. "You understand why we had to employ their weapons. We knew that the League would intervene... The war had to end quickly... and you know why the Zaunites allowed us to borrow their technology..."

"Experimentation." Darius hardened his words. "They are vile."

"I know, Darius, but since then they have learned from their mistakes. Our relations with them have improved, moving on from that war. Our recent trade of food, materials, and protection for their technology has been going well. We have been working on their applications..."

Those words did not settle too well in Darius's thoughts. "A Noxian is raised with the struggle for survival, not the ease of technology."

"And you think we have forgotten that?" Swain smiled. "Oh, Darius, you stay true to our spirit. Of course I would not let their devices of lightning and riveted steel to make our traditions obsolete!" He let out a chuckle, then settled it with a short sip from the goblet. "Even they understand that. They only wish to help improve us, not change us, and we do need their support in maintaining our expanding nation. Observe our economy! We struggle now to sustain ourselves now that we agreed not to lift a blade. We must now strike plows where once we have struck swords. You know that prolonged peace is also not part of our culture. The Zaunites can help us to adapt."

"Hmph..." Darius thought of it with lowered brows. It was an uncertain agreeable thought. For a long time, Grand Generals only sought for even more war, but Swain was one of the very few who stopped and pondered on Noxus's self-sustainability. "We will see. Know that us generals in the Council hold them in uncertainty and in suspicion, while those," his words bit, "_advisers_ of yours encourage us to trust them."

To this, Swain put himself in thinking. "True... I will hold a complete assembly in time to discuss our current state with the Zaunites, now that you have mentioned it... Perhaps I have not been considering everyone's thoughts into their use of technology. I would have those who have witnessed Noxian lives taken by the Zaunite contraptions to have their say in our allowing of Zaunite tech."

"You will have them argue with the advisers who have never drawn a drop of blood themselves or have seen their fellow men fall before them?"

"Yes. They are educated, but not experienced, that is for sure. I cannot simply brush away their insights. I will listen to all, adviser or general, and I will see whose will benefit Noxus the best. And you will be there. I am planning something, Darius, and I wish for all in the Council to hear it." Swain washed his words away with wine.

There was a pause before Darius spoke. "I've heard you say the same before Kalamanda and Ionia"

"And perhaps my plan concerns war, does it not? Oh, Darius, not always too eager for surprises, no?" Swain gave a chuckle to him. He sipped, smile going with his face, but then it faded as he looked down on the goblet that he had just kissed, his eyes reflecting upon the gold. A silence began. Darius watched Swain as the Grand General stared at the polished reflection. He did not speak. He had no smile.

The quiet broke with Swain's lowered voice. "Well... now, I will make sure we leave victorious. I will prepare thoroughly, even if it must take years. It was through our poor judgment that I have allowed those Noxians to die without a moment in combat. I will not allow that stain to remain on Noxus's honor. It is unacceptable."

Darius nodded lightly at his words. "It was cowardice that we had to resort to their weapons."

"Yes. We lost a great deal due to that pathetic gamble. It is the greatest shame in our history of war. We lost many."

_I've lost as well._

They wandered; his eyes, they entered visions of memory.

The smoke, the stench of ash and blood, the distant screams of both men, women, and children... It would have been a normal war if there were the clangs of blade against blade. But there were almost none, for the sound of it was replaced by billowing gas rising into the dark sky above a valley. He cared not for the land, but for all the unneeded death that screamed all around him. He was right to speak against the Zaunite weapons, but the war had to end before the League would end it themselves. What had happened was inevitable. Noxians, men of combat, fell into exterminations disguised as battles. _Unacceptable._

"Countless veterans were wasted that day." Swain continued. "It was because of that war that I have begun to ponder on the state of our military. The victory of Ionia through those damned summoners has fallen to Demacian favor... Our swords are broken and we must reforge as much as we can. While the Demacians..." The venomous thought of their timeless enemies bit into Swain's tongue, clenching his expression. He shook his head. "They continue to gleam."

Broken sword.

Draven. Yes, Draven, he remembered that he had told him something, said as if it was nothing to him. It had struck, causing him to think, to fall silent, to remember.

But he did not want to. They were familiar ghosts, trapped away where they can no longer touch him. The memories they brought arrived to him, but he would not break. He did not reminisce.

"We lost some of our most excellent commanders." Swain went on. "Some to blades, to that blasted gas. Others, to"

_Exile_.

Warmth surged in his blood for a moment, a piece of rotted suffering returning, but it had left just as quick like the crows on the battlefield. He stared, eyes bowed down while Swain spun his emptying goblet. Painful decisions. He should have not been sure. He knew the dangers of the Zaunite weapons. He knew that there might have been a group of the Zaunites near to her battalion's path, that they would respond immediately to any conflict that they might come across. And they did. Too much certainty, too little hesitation. He should have been there, in the field, not in the safety of a camp. Now she is lost.

He pulled himself away, not to go further. A refusal to relive old memories, to see faces again.

Swain did not know of it, another reason for why the memories of that war burned, for why the Zaunites for all their sadism and recklessness ran a restless rage in his blood.

"A shame," He set his goblet down, a light clink sounding when the metal touched the stone. "Most of them showed so much promise. Voulturian, that charismatic towering beast, Selonna, someone who could very much throw a dagger like Katarina, and that swordswoman, Riven. She showed the most favorable performance on duty and in leadership, a prodigy, in fact. I remember passing down a relic sword to her before she exiled herself."

The mention of that name pulled his eyes to Swain. They showed nothing. Only indifference. "Draven told me that one of his assistants spotted her still roaming about in Ionia." He glanced back at the lotus marker. A reminder.

"You think she might have defected to the Ionian sovereign after having turned her back at us?"

"I know her. Though she may have denounce her service to Noxus, she is still Noxian by heart. It will not be easy for her to take up a new banner."

A brow rose. "And how do you know this?"

"I just know it. She was a friend of mine." Darius glanced at Beatrix. Its head turned to the opposite side to look at him. He could tell from its eyes. What it heard, was not entirely the truth.

"Hm, so she was more than just someone you trained so often with. I've known you even before we took up our ranks, Darius, and there are still some things you never tell me."

He did not know why, but what Swain said, had caused him to smile. "And that goes the same to you, old friend."

Swain stayed his eyes, then, a soft sudden laugh, and another louder one, and soon both of them were laughing. Beatrix cawed once to join, lightly flapping its black wings, but it was hardly a laugh. Their merry sounds echoed and echoed, until they gradually stopped, dying down. They were used to this.

As their laughter died, Swain was first to speak. "Darius, if you do not wish to tell me of your dealings with women then let it be." His tone went with his smile. "If only your brother were here to coax you. Always a lively one to drink with at times, and though he is boastful, he can sometimes be a bit insightful"

"Speaking of Draven, he says that he is eager for your plans to expand his arena."

"Ah, yes, If you see him again, tell him that once I am finished with the new walls and fields, I will allocate an amount of effort to expand his arena. His executions— or shows, rather— are truly amazing and they do wonders for the public. If I only I weren't so busy..."

And the topics have changed, and they conversed about the trivial things and the stately matters until Swain had totally forgotten his empty goblet. They have moved on from the serious and they spoke of the casual, the insignificant, and a bit of the political.

He knew that between the suggestive tones and casual replies, Swain was a master in tactics, deception, and manipulation, a raven with a sharp beak and even sharper talons. But at times, even the Raven would forget, overlook things that are essential, and it gladdened Darius to know that Swain had never forgotten the Zaunite atrocities. Darius had only lightest acceptance of Zaunite technology(others outright refused it) and he himself would allow it to a degree. Yet, he would not allow the underlings of Zaun to be so close, so unguarded and so trusted. They knew how to scheme as well as Noxus, to deceive and to break agreed promises. He had experienced that. The dead Noxians on the fields of Ionia did too. What he told Swain was to be more cautious, else the Raven steps into a trap once again. He hoped that he had listened well. The Zaunites, even if they proud themselves as their allies, had their own interests as well.

_Poison_. He thought of it. _Like poison..._ They have poisoned things before, taking them away...

For Swain and the High Command, their honorable victory. For Luxanna, her magic. And for Darius,

Long gone.

**III**

Sand escaped her. Luxanna fell once again, her chin hitting the ground and her training sword thudding. The sun-dried grains coated along with the sweat of her thighs and weakening arms. Loose strands of her golden hair began to stick like thin veins to the edges of her forehead. She could taste some of the sand that entered her waterless mouth as she often fell with it agape. Her hand steadily fell to the weighing grip of her practice sword. A constricting fatigue tightened its sharp hold on her body, and Lux ignored it as much as she can. She was familiar to this, to being tired from physical exertion, but not to someone standing over her whenever she fell saying:

"Get up, Anna."

Lux pushed up from the sanded floor with stiff arms. The untreated leather of her sword itched and warmed in her sweated palms. She did not stand yet, instead turning her body and looking up to Katarina while on the ground, the fine sand rough on her pressing hand. Lux could spot the tiniest bit of enjoyment shining brighter than the sunlight in Katarina's scarred eye. All this training in evasion, in moving quick, maintaining stance, and balancing footwork at the same time, and her new 'mentor' still stood firm and smiling.

Sharp breaths cut into her lungs, breathing that way out of tire and frustration mixing violently in the air. Again and again this woman, this _Noxian_ woman, had to outmaneuver her and laugh at her face. Mockery was a more unfamiliar face to Luxanna than the Keep itself, and she had to face it with Katarina no less, the woman who had forced pills into her throat. The grunts of training men all around them filled the air, but nothing sounded louder than Katarina's voice stinging and playing at Lux.

"If you handled a blade like that, you would be wounded the instant you got in a fight." She said as Luxanna picked herself up.

Lux brushed away the sands, and stood in stance once again. She had no reply for Katarina, and instead focused on what instruction she gave no matter what distrust she had. She could feel her breaths push against her body, but it did not matter.

"Don't get lost, dummy. I know it's quick but when you don't know what I'm going to do and what I'm doing, then you won't know how to respond. You'll be dead before you even know what's going on." It was the third time that she had said something along those lines. "And watch your damn feet."

"Okay." She responded in a breath, simple with a nod. She had to concentrate, relax, and look. _My response is only as good as what I can perceive..._ Katarina readied herself, raising her blades in front of her. That smile, something she could make because she had conviction in her skill. She had unnerved her, but Luxanna had learned to ignore it. _It's not a baton,_ She thought, _It's a sword._ _It has an edge and it is an extension, a metal limb., a killing arm. _They were words Katarina had told her. _Evade, evade, then strike..._

Luxanna watched, waiting for Katarina's move. Their eyes met, one showed anticipation, the other enjoyment.

The wind whipped. Metal cut through the sun-heated air and a blur came diagonally from the right of Lux. Eyes widened and she responded. Thoughts could not form. Only reflex.

A step. The blade that ripped through air rang in her ear. She dodged away before it could come down hard upon her shoulder, then, with a scream, she let her own thrust into Katarina's torso. She had her. She had her only if the blade had found something. But there was only empty space, and worse, as she gasped and came to her senses, the cold of a blunt blade pressing down on her back, lightly tapping on her skin.

Short laughter.

"You've finally dodged the first strike!" Katarina said. It all happened so fast. "To be fair, I was going slow..."

Luxanna turned to face her, and there she was, right in front of her with a smile. In no way can a beginner swordsman overcome that speed. "You're cheating!"

"More like toying with you," a chuckle. "But anyways, that stab could one day be in the unarmored flesh of an untrained mugger or highwayman."

_How gratifying..._ Lux thought. "That's not enough, is it?"

"Not by a long shot, Anna." She said, letting her blades down. "The average Noxian knows his weapon well. He uses it not only to defend himself, but to also cut throats for a living. Only those who know how to survive a fight last in the most wretched parts of the city."

"So that's why I have to evade? To last?"

"And find opportunities for a well-placed strike. I know that it kind of sounds like defense, but it is, the only difference that it makes better way for an attack."

"Like... countering after a block?"

"Yes, in a sense, but this one takes them completely by surprise. You move quick. You avoid. You kill."

_Speed... _That was Katarina's style. To strike first at the chance to kill, and, if not, dodge then strike. To finish the fight in the swiftest manner was her way. She was an assassin after all, and Lux knew well that she was training her like one, to be agile rather than persevering. Her, a born mage, fighting like an assassin... She thought of it. That wasn't her. That was Quinn. And her, wielding a sword? No, no... That was Fiora. What she lacked in edged-cunning and swordsmanship, she made up with the arcane. _That_ was her true extension.

But now...

"You understand, Anna, that there is no standing your ground, enduring hits, or blocking so often. Our bodies are light, flexible, and more fit for swiftness than ruggedness. That is your advantage and you have yet to make total control of it."

_Yet._ This won't be the first time that she would come here and train. This barely even looked like training to her... There were no exercises, no repeated movements, or friendly advice, just pain and mockery.

"I am not used to your ways."

"Because you rely on mana, you ignore that river of adrenaline and use it instead to escape and cast whatever incantation to get it over with. And let me guess, that... stick you used to have wasn't made for hitting stuff."

She did not like that she was right. It was a channel-staff, not a fighting staff. "No, but I can—"

"See? Your aim now is to survive and fight, to look in the soul of your enemy and feel his furious breath, his every emotion, and then struggle against him for a common goal, to live and see another day. You cannot just cast away a life, no, you are fighting for the death of someone else. It isn't so easy now, is it?"

It won't be. She had never looked into the eyes of a man while she pushed a blade into his chest, or came upon him and slit his throat while covering his mouth, his last breath cupped in her hands. The thought of it hollowed her bones and shook them. This brief imagination she had, a repulsive imagination, yet a reality that Quinn, Fiora, and her brother had live through. They never spoke of combat and killing, never boasted of it so loud. Lux had seen her share of killing, but not so close, not by hand... She understood now, why it was nothing to be proud of.

It shivered a fraction of her: Katarina spoke of it like an art.

"No..." Luxanna said again, eyes downed.

"But you need to live, don't you? When the time comes, it's either them or you."

"This is the only way, isn't it?"

Katarina smiled. Her scar knew its answer. "It was always the only way. So let's leave it at that."

Luxanna returned her eyes to her. The day would arrive that she would need to defend herself. Magic would not be there to aid her, to hide the face of death, and she would have to kill and kill violently to save herself. It would be inevitable, and to stand in fear, in not knowing what to do, will be the end of her. She had to numb herself. Even if she hated it, she had to listen to Katarina and learn.

She had to be strong.

"Assume stance. If you knock me down for the first time, Anna, I might just give your headband back."

An expression of repulse, then Luxanna nodded, raising her sword. Its weight began to pull at the fibers of her arm. But that did not matter, and she ignored it, numbed at the feeling as they continued on. The sand would escape her again, and there would be more laughter, and she would push herself up again. She may have been a quick learner, but this was not just learning, this was _training_, and Lux understood well that time was the most important component.

And again, she fell, and again she picked up her sword. The sweat soaks. The sand accumulates. Her breaths heave. Her body aches yet she got on her feet, enduring not only the fatigue but the teasing of Katarina, the woman who had put her down, who was now breathing down her neck. But as they trained, Lux did not mind that, not now.

She fell, but once she got up, pulling all the weight of exhaustion, Katarina chuckled. She told her to stand down.

It was time to rest.

**III**

Luxanna sat on one of the benches that lined the sides of the training court, her sweated palms gripped on the dusted wood while she watched the men who trained. They were numerous. Most of them were in pairs, but some trained alone with the hay dummies that were situated on the corners. _Dummy_, she hated how Katarina called her that. Darius was _servant. _Katarina was _dummy_. She pushed a breath. It said much about how they saw her.

The sun yellows the sand, and beats down on one's skin. The sky painted tranquil blue and a relieving mountain breeze arrived to her, wisping the loosened strands of her hair. The heat of her body washes away, and good as it felt that Luxanna closed her eyes to savor it with a deep breath. It reminded her of her balcony, how the petals of her flowers danced to the gentle prod of the wind, and how the aroma arrived to her. She lengthened her breath, and though there was only the smell of sweat and sand, she imagined it still, the sweet kiss of lerubelia and pink cherry-rose. She wondered for a moment if Bavis had been taking good care of them... She wondered if he was worried now, if her _mother_ was worried. And her brother...

Skin fell on her thighs, thin skin filled with cold water, arriving to her with a _plop_ and sagging down on her lap.

A refreshment, cold sweet water in edible blue Marsh gel akin to coconut flesh.

"Drink." Katarina said as she sat to her right. Lux turned her head to her, finding that Katarina had removed her vest and placed it hanging on her lap. She began to drink, raising her head up with some of the cool water spilling out and traveling down her neck. They trailed to the tattoos that marked her pale skin, dark flames of ink flowing up from the edges of her belted leggings then marking half of her torso.

Luxanna returned to her drink, still cold and drooping on her tired lap. She let out a breath. At least a Noxian had done _something_ for her. She held it with one hand, placed it to her mouth, bit in and drank slowly in sips. The water, its cold relief, and all its hydration washed into her like iced honey. The sips became gulps, and soon it would be empty. Then, she ate the semi-solid gel, chewing, then swallowing.

"Ah..." Katarina sounded. "Refreshing, isn't it?" Lux gave no response. Katarina had already eaten her own marsh gel.

They sat in silence when they were finished, and they looked out to the active training field. The grunting and shouting of men came in echoes along with the clanging of their blades, the faint calls of dire ravens to fill in the ambiance. Luxanna had nothing to say, not to the woman responsible for all... this.

Katarina turned her head left and right first as if scanning, then she was first to speak. Lux listened. "So, how's your stay in Noxus?"

It was difficult to find an answer. Strange, alien, boring, fun? She did not know.

"Fine... so far." Lux said.

"Anything _strange_ happened lately?"

Lux knew what she meant. If she had done anything _with_ Darius. Why does everyone think this way? "No, if being a servant doesn't count as strange."

Katarina chuckled. "Your master is quite demanding, isn't he?"

_Master._ There was bitterness to answering to that title. "He isn't my master. He's my _captor_, in case you are forgetting." She shot eyes to her, slightly moving her head.

"Fine, fine, let's just call him 'Darius' if that makes you happy." Katarina said, dismissing it with a smirk. "So, done anything... interesting with or to Darius?"

_Why does everyone think this way?_ She asked herself. She thought it would die with Draven, but even Katarina had it in her, the malice. The full mention of the name did not help at all. "Servant work. Cooking, cleaning, arms polishing and," A picture stopped in her throat: a guiding hand on another under the glow of a firelight. It left her. "Buying things in the market."

Katarina let out soft laughter, as Lux had expect. "Your brother must be proud."

That wasn't the first time she heard it. It seared in her head. "Shut up, and how well do you know my brother anyway?"

"Well enough, I can say that." She smiled. "He likes to worry."

_No, he doesn't_. He was always so sure, always confident of victory and undaunted by challenge. There was no worry in him at all. "That is not true."

"And how well do _you_ know him?"

She turned her head away from her. "Better than you, that is certain."

"And are you _that_ certain?"

Luxanna stared out to the sky, into the blue. _Not as quite as I believe..._ "I am." She turned her head to Katarina. "Just what are you trying to prove?"

"Is it wrong to ask?" She said, eyes staring out the sky as well. "How is he?"

Tightened brows. "Fine as far as I know. Why?"

"Just 'fine'?" Katarina met eyes with her.

"Katarina," Lux looked with puzzlement. "What is this?"

She only met her question with fluid giggling, shaking her head with them. "I see that skull density runs in the family. You don't listen to rumors, don't you?"

Luxanna rolled her eyes, not wanting to go anywhere further with this woman. She was fond of making fun of her anyway. "I do not gossip. It is not worth my time."

"Sounds like Darius I'm hearing." Katarina smiled with the words. "He's been growing on you, hasn't he? What with his frowny face and dead-locked eyes."

Lux let out a weighed breath, then realized that Katarina was also describing the face she had right now. She turned that frown into a puffed breath. "Damn him. Remind me again if I begin to seem like him. I might just become him..."

"He's a strange man, don't you think?"

_Don't get me started... _"More than that. Why me? Why didn't he just..." Her voice stilled, unable to continue.

"Kill you from the start?"

A metallic thought. "No, not only that..." Lux said. A topless Noxian man stood triumphant over his friend, sword pointed at him, then they laughed along together. "Utterly break me."

That, even Katarina thought of.

They were silent for a moment. The days before her played out in her mind. There were the moments of difference, of a new feeling washing over her... She had felt it now. She watched back at herself in the days after her capture, the very beginning when she woke up that morning to find herself untouched. When she had been captured, sobbing before the Raven Emperor, imaginings of a different future swallowed her mind and her hope, thoughts spawned by fear. But as she remembered the moments after her awakening, it hadn't been what she had imagined. It was far from it.

The sky is so blank, the sounds so cacophonous and echoing. What was it that she was supposed to feel? What was he doing to her? One day, she would have to know, and she hoped that day drew soon.

Katarina spoke. "You want to know something about him?"

Luxanna turned her eyes to her. "Hm?"

"He's like me. He's lost people, those someones that he cared for." She looked at Lux. "He remedies it by not thinking about it."

There welled an unsure pity in Lux, and a curiosity. "Like... who?"

Katarina paused, then chuckled, and looked at Lux. "That's as far as I can tell you. If you really want to know, ask him."

"So what am I? A way for comfort, company to soothe him?" Though she might have known that already. That thought disgusted her.

"That I cannot say, Anna dear." Katarina shrugged her shoulders. "But what I think, you remind him of someone, and whoever that is, is up to you to find out."

It buried in her thoughts. It was apparent that Katarina wouldn't tell her anything more than that. She was a sack of secrets, of information, and she refused to open. But, being in the Keep, she knew that there may be things even Katarina did not know. Luxanna blinked, and there was the sky, a sheet for her mind. Katarina surrounded her with new intrigue, more questions. She stared at the heavenly ultramarine, staring at her own thoughts. She thought of the entire situation that she was in, and it pushed like steel in her mind.

Katarina broke her gazing. "You're still mad at me, aren't you?"

It spiked into her head. A direct answer scratched at her mind. Luxanna could not forget what she had done to her. "We are technically still at war..." she said in a quiet voice.

"And I did make you swallow something experimental." She softened it with a light laughter, but Luxanna knew that no amount of heartedness can mask the severity of what Katarina had done, of what _they_ have done to her, and perhaps what she has done to herself.

"It is hard not to say that I can be angry at you." Luxanna said, no gentleness in her voice. "Darius now intends to humiliate my brother by keeping me in this state. My family might disown me and..." a sigh, and she bowed her head down, shaking it. "Is it my fault or yours?" Katarina's lips stiffened as Luxanna had began.

Silence again, and when Katarina had not answered, Luxanna turned her head away from her once more and sighed. A hand arrived at her shoulder. Katarina's hand, the touch like frigid lightning that arrived soft to her core. Luxanna looked back at her. A smile. It was genuine now.

"Look, Anna, everybody loses in the blame game. I've done what I was told to and you did too. We'll have our faults, but now, there's nothing to gain from condemning each other. "

Lux's unsure eyes wandered, stopping to meet Katarina's. She was right. She was here now, in Noxus, the land of her enemies, seen, heard, and touched, but she would not survive long if she would treat her enemies as enemies at war. She did not know how long she may be in Noxus, but she knew that she needed someone to talk to, to retain at least a bit of sanity, to help her adjust, and there she smiled, and though her smile may be fake, she listened to Lux all the same. She _listened_ to her. And perhaps...

"You are right." The heaviness of her tone lifted away. "So let us put it behind us, but know that I still don't trust you."

Katarina raised a brow and the arrogance in her smile returned. "Alright, princess dummy. Darius tasked me to watch over you while he's gone, so we might as well get along." And Lux smiled to reflect Katarina's smile, and then the smile turned to light laughter, and the laughter grew and chained together.

For the first time, even for a moment, they came to fully agree on something.

* * *

AN: _**SCHOOL'S OUT.**_

Which means I have more time to write and work on more stories (_huzzah!_)

Yep, this one's wait was reeeeaaallly long for... _reasons_, one of them being a damn busy schedule crammed with tons of work and pressure as school ended, and another that this was the hardest chapter to write.

This one had the most rewriting so far, going from draft to draft, and edited again and again in the span of months because it is here that I got tied in a knot trying to introduce something new which is how much the Ionian war has affected Darius and Swain and all the Zaunite and Ionian jazz.

And yeah, I was being fidgety in how Katarina and Lux would collide, and how would that tiny tiny introduction of Riven play out. But other than the bad things, I particularly had a lot of enjoyment writing Darius and Katarina's interaction, the Ionian memories, and Katarina and Lux's conversation(basically most of the story.) They just were... fluid to write.

And, yes, Riven's in, but don't worry, there won't be _so much_ focus on her and... I really wanna tell you guys more about her, but all I can say is that let's just put her in the back of our heads, and see were it goes. We're taking this... slooowww-like, but I got this gut feeling that things are starting to gain more speed...

So yeah. I apologize if this chapter seems too long (10,000 words!), and yes, it is the longest so far, which sort of covers the huge wait. and I did not intend that. The chapter kinda just wants to end where it wants to end.

And **THANK YOU** so much to you guys who stay tuned and reviewed, it's been really helpful and it had help tremendously in easing the difficulty of writing this chapter. I really appreciate all your reviews and if you guys hadn't been there, I don't where this story'll be! Thanks again! You guys are awesome :D!

Also, if you guys have any questions feel free to ask, and I'll answer them the best I can here without revealing too much about the story. If there's anything that seems wrong, please feel free to tell me.

Fave, follow, review if you wanna! Criticism is all fine, flaming nope. See you guys on the next one!


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